


Things I started but never finished

by kalkoenvsneoklak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Avengers AU, Captain America Castiel, College, Cop Dean, DJ Charlie, Drummer Dean, Emma is Dean's daughter, First Meetings, Friends With Benefits, Greek island, Guitarist Sam, Hulk Sam, Iron Man Dean, Love and Other drugs au, Mamma Mia AU, Metalbender Dean, Multi, Musicians, Percussionist Dean, Roommates, Sense8 AU, Sick Castiel (Supernatural), YouTuber Castiel, YouTubers - Freeform, au's, avatar AU, avatar castiel, earthbender dean, music school, musician au, pianist castiel, sensates - Freeform, youtuber!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:36:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalkoenvsneoklak/pseuds/kalkoenvsneoklak
Summary: Just a compilation of stories I started, but never finished (the title says as much). It's mostly stuff based upon TV-shows and movies. They can just be considered as one-shots, instead!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. Love and Other Drugs AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester accidentally insults the work of a painter, finding his work getting worse the more recent it is. Said painter is obviously Castiel, and he's got a secret of his own.

It’s not that Dean hates art, it’s just that lately _everything_ seems to be called that. Just draw a stripe on a canvas, give it a fancy name, and then you can sell it for thousands of dollars just because you’ve made a name for yourself. True, okay, so the only paintings he really knows are mostly Da Vinci – not because he’s seen the Da Vinci Code or anything (but let’s face it, that French Actress was extremely nice to look at) – but he knows about Rothko and Pollock and who-ever else there is left, and how the latter, just for example, throws paint on the canvas and decides its worth on how much expression he had while making it.

Sure, Dean can do that, too. Tip over a bucket, say that he was feeling especially angry that day, and ta-dah!

Still, when his brother asked to join him at the demonstration, Dean hesitantly said yes – mostly because Sam managed to guilt him into coming along, claiming that Jessica would have loved to but she was too sick and yada yada. Anyway, Dean just put on some clothing that don’t make him look too much like the mechanic that he is, and then he meets up with his brother at the location, already missing the times where Sammy would sit next to him behind the wheel.

The paintings are… okay, Dean thinks? There are some nice portraits of people, some a little more abstract than the others, but other than that there doesn’t seem to be some of that expressionistic crap he had to study about back in school.

Yet, the further he walks past the paintings, the more… simple they seem to get. Dean also notices how the lines are getting less smooth, how less details there are suddenly coming. Probably whoever painted this seemed to get that damn abstract-bug. That, or he got tired of spending so much time painting.

“I mean, look at that! It’s practically stick figures with a bit of smoke behind them,” Dean argues when he brings it up to his brother, pointing at the particular painting that does indeed seems to look like damn stick figures with grey smoke behind them. Dean’s not exaggerating here!

“Dean, come on,” Sam sighs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. Hey, the guy should be lucky Dean agreed to join him in the first place.

“I’m serious, Sam! It’s like this guy just… got tired of painting or whatever!”

“Dean,” Sam tries to interrupt him. It doesn’t work.

“I mean, I can get the appeal on the trembling lines and all, it adds some sort of effect-“

“Dean…”

“But I mean come on, five paintings ago there was a super realistic portrait of a cute redheaded woman with shadings and whatever else, and now there’s like… he’s just giving up!”

“Dean!” Sam calls out a bit loudly, and when Dean looks up at his brother he finds him nodding backwards. Dean turns around quickly, only to find another man standing behind him with what looks like an amused smirk on his face. Quickly, Dean puts up his most charming smile, trying to brush off his frustrations towards the paintings.

“Hey, name’s Dean,” the man says, holding out his hand. He figures this is somebody who knows his brother, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have been standing there. Behind him, Sam lets out an annoyed groan and mutters something about him never keeping it in his pants. Dean decides to ignore that comment.

“Castiel Novak,” the other guy says, accepting the handshake but not holding on too tightly. Dean frowns when he seems to recognize the name. “You might know me as the one who’s giving up.”

Dean’s mouth falls open and his heart seems to be stopping for a moment. It’s like he’s forgotten how to breathe, that’s how much that embarrassment hits him. Meanwhile his hand is still holding the other guy’s, and a few weird noises escape his throat.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry man!” Dean finally gets out, at last letting go of the handshake and balling his hands into fists. “I didn’t mean to-“

“No that’s okay,” the guy, Castiel, says. Behind him, Dean hears somebody talk to Sam. “I’m actually quite happy somebody dares to speak their mind here. Everybody is trying to be nice and pretend they like it while even I know it’s crap. It’s refreshing to hear something else for once.”

Huh, Dean didn’t expect the guy to sound so genuinely happy about it.

“But if you think it’s crap, why would you hang it up with the other stuff?” Dean asks, literally curious. Castiel just shrugs, and for a moment Dean wonders where exactly Sam met this guy. He had said the exhibition was of an old colleague of his, but Dean never really knew any of the other doctors his brother used to work with. Though that mostly has to do because Dean has kept his distance from him in the past few years after their father died.

“People just need to see that not everything can be perfect, I guess,” Castiel says. For a moment there’s a strong emotion in the guy’s blue eyes, but then he lifts up his hand and passes it through his messy brown hair. Dean notices a small trembling in his movement, but he’s sure that’s just because he’s nervous. It’s _his_ exhibition, anyway.

“Well, you look pretty perfect to me,” Dean says before he can control himself. It’s not often that he flirts with guys so he even surprises himself here. Chicks are easy, dudes… not so much. Behind him he hears Sam groan in frustration.

“Dean, you did not just…” whatever he wanted to say next never came out, seeing as Sam slapped his hand on his forehead and turned back around to continue talking to who-ever called out for him. Where Dean expects a frown from the guy, instead Castiel seems amused.

“I guess I can say the same thing about you, Dean Winchester. Sam told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope?” Dean tries. Cas smirks but doesn’t answer that, instead biting his lower lip and looking down. Then Sam, behind him, sees somebody else he recognizes and walks away with a quick promise that he’ll be back. Dean just nods at him, watches the quick exchange between his brother and the painter in front of him, and then the two are left alone, standing next to a painting of freaking stick figures standing before damn grey smoke.

“So I have this apartment not too far from here,” Castiel suddenly says, hands disappearing in the pockets from his pants. He seems hesitant for a moment. “You want to have sex?”

Dean can’t really believe his ears. Never would he have thought that he would come to the exhibition of a painter who would ask him for a quick fuck. The guy is pretty straightforward, too, not seeming ashamed about it. And normally Dean would have refused sleeping with one of Sam’s co-workers, but since the guy apparently quit his job about a year ago, Dean figures it wouldn’t hurt that much, right?

“Sure, let’s go,” Dean says. They leave immediately, but nobody notices them. The apartment is literally five minutes away from the building, and the moment they’re inside their lips collide and they start pulling off each other’s clothes. It doesn’t last all that long, but Dean can easily say that it’s one of the best fucks he’s had in years. Eventually they go a second round only an hour later, and then Sam seems to have noticed that he’s gone, since his cellphone starts ringing. Completely out of breath and with Castiel’s face still stuck between his legs as the painter continues to lick his skin, Dean picks up the phone and presses it to his ear.

“Yeah?” he asks heavily, his leg trembling when Cas takes him into his mouth again. He can’t help the small groan escaping his throat, and his left hand reaches for the guy’s hair, going through them with his fingers and massaging the top of his head. _Oh my god_ , Dean whispers, barely audible, but sadly, audible enough for Sam.

“ _Dude, did you leave me here to have sex?”_ Sam asks, obviously annoyed. Dean suppresses another groan when Cas starts to use his tongue, and turns his head to the side and closes his eyes.

“Obviously you weren’t missing me all that much, seeing as we are an hour further and only now you notice we’ve left,” Dean argues back, the ‘we’ slipping out before he really realizes it. Once more he bites his lips, this time because of his own stupidity.

“ _We?! Dean don’t tell me you’re with Castiel?”_ Sam calls out, talking faster, which is something he does when he’s getting angry. “ _Damn it Dean!”_

“Hey hey, he- oh – he came up with the idea, don’t blame-“ then Cas’ hand is suddenly on his and the phone is pulled away from his ear. Cas pulls his face back from Dean slightly only to take the phone to himself.

“Yes, hello Sam, I know we’re friends but please let me finish this blowjob before your brother’s erection goes down because of you blaming him for things.”

Dean throws his head back in embarrassment, unable to help the laughter that erupts from him. This guy is shameless.

“Sam, you’re a doctor, you’re probably aware that your brother has a penis and that he needs to use it sometimes to engage in sexual activities. You shouldn’t be ashamed to talk about this,” Cas tells him. Then his eyes open in a fake surprise and the phone gets dropped on the mattress. “He hung up.”

“About damn time,” Dean says, pulling Cas back to him to steal another kiss.

Eventually, about twenty minutes later, Dean’s finally recovered from the after-glow. He figures it’s time for him to go, so he stands up to fetch his clothes, and moves to the bathroom. He almost trips over a few paint brushes on the floor, and accidentally steps into an open tube of paint, but finally he makes his way inside, starting immediately with washing away the blue liquid from his feet.

He throws some water in his face then as well when he sees his own reflection and finds himself completely red. His breathing is still fast, but he can’t say that he isn’t completely satisfied. He would never have expected that this evening would end up in having mind-blowing sex with a stranger he practically insulted the first time they’ve spoken.

Dean’s eyes pass over the tiny yellow bottles on the sink. He lifts one of them up, recognizing it as the kind of medicine you either need prescription for or you get illegally on the black market. Dean guesses the first when he sees the name _Castiel Novak_ written on the etiquette. The name of the medicine doesn’t look familiar to him, but Dean’s first guess would be anti-depressants. He’s heard a lot of people take them lately – heck even his father took them right until he bit the dust.

With a sigh Dean drops the bottle again, finally putting on his clothes again and trying to figure out what to say to the guy. Is he expecting more now? Because Dean doesn’t really think he’s ready for that just yet – not after that fiasco with Lisa that only ended a year ago.

In the end, it’s Castiel who does it for him. He’s already dressed in sleeping attire when he walks Dean out the door.

“So, that was fun,” he says, trying to sound aloof. He’s leaning his arm against the door and resting his other hand on his hip.

“Yeah, sure it was,” Dean agrees, looking down uncomfortably. “Listen, Cas-“

“Don’t expect more out of this than what just happened, okay?” Cas then says. “Sure, if I come across you again and you want to jump my bones once more, I can go for that but just… don’t expect a phone-call or anything.”

Dean grins, and then puts on his jacket. “That’s alright by me, Mr. Novak,” Dean says, relieved that they got that awkward conversation out of the way and actually agreed on this thing. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Castiel answers, and then he closes the door. Dean just shakes his head and drives back home.

* * *

The next time Dean sees Castiel again, it’s more by coincidence. Dean’s just quietly having dinner with his brother at that one diner they love to go to. It’s almost tradition for them to go there every Friday ever since Dean moved back to this place last year. Sure, he’d never thought that after escaping Lawrence he would eventually return to it willingly, but now he’s older and there’s a whole less crap to worry about.

Neither Sam or Dean have spoken about the fact that Dean had sex with Sam’s ex-co-worker – and Dean still doesn’t know why the guy would have stopped his job in the middle of his residency-year. Dean doesn’t really want to think about it much more, either, respecting their agreement not to search for more than there was in that one night stand.

Still, the moment Dean sees him enter the diner, holding a gigantic canvas in his hands and walking it towards one of the waiters, his curiosity suddenly gets the better of him.

“Say, Sam, why exactly is it that that Castiel-guy stopped with surgery?” Dean asks, trying not to sound too interested about it. The younger Winchester looks up for a moment, but then shrugs.

“I don’t know, he was at the top of his year, literally one of the best almost. He was going to become Chief Resident when suddenly he quit,” Sam says while sipping from his beer. “Told me it was because of health-issues.”

Dean eyes the painter for a moment, secretly admiring the guy’s back and – let’s face it – his ass. It’s quite a sight he enjoys. Maybe a bit too much, because when Cas turns around, he catches him staring. He raises his eyebrows questioningly and a light smirk appears on his face. Then he nods towards Dean, a silent question between them.

Dean can’t help the sudden growing smirk on his face when he nods yes. He stands up, muttering a quick excuse about needing to go to the toilet, and then passes by Cas. He doesn’t look back at him when he opens the door to the hallway that leads to the toilets, but once the door’s closed again he leans against the wall, waiting for Cas to join him again.

The moment Cas walks inside as well, their lips are already smashed together and their bodies were pressed close. Dean slams Cas against the wall and starts kissing him under his jaw, causing for Cas to let out a long breath.

“Distract me,” the painter then begs of him, sounding like he really needs it. His hands seem to be trembling so Dean takes them in his own and crosses their fingers together to calm him down. He doesn’t have to be nervous about this; it’s all no strings attached, just like he requested.

Dean then pulls Cas along with him and hides both of them in the supply closet. The two of them start undoing their pants right away, and before they know it they’re on each other again. Dean doesn’t let go of his hand the whole time, but neither of them really seem to notice.

They finish quickly, and keep it with just the one time; mostly because Dean doesn’t want another reason for Sam to be pissed at him; he can only stay away for so long until his brother will go and try to find him. So the moment they’re done, Dean gets dressed again and the same goes for Cas. The painter seems a bit distracted though, looking with an intense focus to the button of his jeans as he tries to close it. Dean shakes his head and smirks, pulling out a little piece of paper and writing down his number on it.

“In case you’re in need of some more distraction, call this number. No strings attached, like we agreed,” Dean says, somehow a little surprised that this is only the second time he’s ever really seen the guy, and they’ve already had sex twice… or three times, seeing as they did it twice the first time.

After finishing closing his pants, Cas looks up with big eyes, taking the card with a shaky hand and making fists quite suddenly as if he’s angry. He lets out a short breath, and then manages a smile.

“No strings attached. But I might be calling you a lot, seeing as I will be needing a lot of distraction right now,” Cas says, voice sounding a bit weird. Dean nods at him, and when Cas moves to make his leave, Dean pulls him right back to plant another kiss on his lips.

“Just for good luck,” Dean says then, hoping that he hasn’t been away for too long.

* * *

During the first week after their second meet-up, Cas calls Dean up almost every day. Dean never hesitates, dropping everything the moment his phone goes off and heading out to that by now familiar apartment where Cas lives. During the second week, they start to engage into a few conversations, mostly about Sam and about his paintings. Cas’ place is still a mess, but Dean does seem to notice how there are seemingly less painting-utensils the longer he comes.

It’s around the third week of their arrangement when the first disagreement starts to come. They’re both in Cas’ apartment this time – they go to Dean’s sometimes as well – and they’ve just finished up. Dean is still completely out of breath, heart beating fast and eyes dropping shut. He could use a good night’s sleep right now, and his whole body seems to agree with him here.

Cas, who has his hand rested on his chest suddenly gives him a short pat and then moves a bit next to him.

“You need to go,” he tells him like he always does when Dean doesn’t get up right away. The other man can’t help but groan at the idea of having to get out of this heavenly bed.

“Can’t I stay here for once? I’m really tired,” Dean mutters out with an arm pressed against his eyes. Then he turns his head to the side only to find Cas already dressed in loose clothes.

“No strings attached, Dean. We agreed on this,” Cas tells him with a voice a bit louder than Dean had expected. Suddenly, he finds the strength to push himself upright and to have a good look at the other man who seems to be fumbling around with his stuff, appearing nervous for some reason.

“Dude, Cas, this doesn’t have to mean anything you know. One sleepover doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship,” Dean argues back. Cas then stops with what he’s doing, his head shaking and a soft snort escaping through his nose. Dean throws his legs over the bed and gets up as well, figuring that his arguments are better told while standing.

“It starts with _one_ sleepover, and the next thing we know you stay every night, you’ll make me coffee and we’ll do each other’s laundry,” Cas starts with an irritated voice. He makes his way to the bathroom and heads for the bottles of medicine that Dean knows he usually takes around this time. He’s still not sure what they are for, but he figures that, if Cas would want him to know, he would tell him.

“Dude, so what if it would end up like that?” Dean says before really realizing it. That wasn’t really what he was planning to say, and he can almost punch his face against a wall. “I mean, what are you so afraid of? Are you scared of relationships?”

He’s met with silence for a little moment, finding Cas just standing there in front of the sink with his head down. He’s wearing one of the bath robes that had been lying on the ground and his hands are gripping the borders of the sink tightly, fingers almost turning white from the force.

“Cas?” Dean asks him, a little worried that something might be wrong. But then Cas turns around, marching up to his face with such an angry look that Dean instinctively takes a few steps back.

“I am not afraid of _anything_! I am not weak! Never, _ever,_ insinuate that I am!” Cas almost shouts to him, fingers trembling as he points at him. His breathing is once again loud and fast, and his face has reddened a bit.

“I never said that you are, Cas,” Dean assures him, holding up his hands in a surrendering way. Cas doesn’t answer, instead turns back around and continues to fumble with his bottles but failing to open them as his trembling seems to have gotten worse. Dean walks forward again, reaching out to him.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” he offers, but then he’s roughly pushed back again by what seems like a fuming Cas. Dean’s mouth falls open in surprise, but no words manage to come out.

“I don’t need anyone’s help! I can manage on my own!” Cas bites at him. “You should better go!”

When Cas turns his back to him again, Dean sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head in surrender. He knew Cas had a few trusting issues, but obviously there’s something more going on here.

“You know, you don’t have to go through this alone,” Dean tells him in a last attempt to change his mind. It’s not that he wants something more serious with the guy, but Cas has become some sort of friend, he thinks? Anyway, it would suck to have him handle all his problems by himself. “If you would just let people in maybe things will be a bit easier?”

“Nobody wants a sick person,” Cas tells him in a whisper. He drops the bottle down, but Dean doesn’t know if it was by accident or on purpose. When Cas then picks it up again and throws it against the wall in all his anger, he figures it was the first one. All the pills fall on the ground, scattering all over the floor and a few ones even rolling towards the bedroom.

“Some people might, if you would only give them the chance,” Dean says, kneeling down to start picking up the pills and putting them back in the bottle that is lying a little further away.

“Please, Dean, just go,” Cas begs of him in a whisper. Dean looks up, finding the man looking all defeated. Dean’s never seen him like this, and he doesn’t like it one bit now that he has. He can’t really place the emotion when the sudden urge to take care of him comes to him, but he figures he has to at least listen to his wishes.

Dean stops picking up the pills, standing up slowly and handing the bottle back to Cas. “Okay,” he tells him before moving back to the bedroom and getting dressed. He takes his time doing it, hoping that the other man would still change his mind, tell him to stay, that he does need help.

But the words don’t come, and by the time Dean is completely dressed, he has no more excuse to stay here. So he finishes tying his shoelaces and heads to the hallway, passing the bathroom on the way there but only finding Cas sitting on the floor with his face between his hands. Dean can see his shoulders shaking, and he can’t help but walk forward again, accidentally crushing a few of the pills on his way to Cas.

Quickly he kneels down again next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder in a comforting way.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Dean asks him. Cas doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t shy away from Dean’s touch either, so when Dean passes one arm under his knees and the other one on his back to lift him up, he’s happy to find no resistance.

He tucks Cas in in silence, pulling the sheets over him and stroking the hair out of his face. Then he fishes out a tissue and hands it to Cas, who wipes away a few tears. Dean doesn’t want to ask what’s bothering him; not tonight. Cas should just go sleep right now, he’s exhausted already.

“I don’t need your pity,” Cas then tells him with a shaky voice, keeping his back to Dean.

“I didn’t take care of you out of pity,” Dean tells him softly, keeping a hand on his arm. Cas sniffs once, shortly. “I took care of you because that’s what I do for people I care about.” 


	2. Youtuber Roomates AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a famous Youtuber. Cas is a famous youtuber. Suddenly they're roommates, and people are loving it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired for this one because of a particular video of Dan & Phil that my friend sent me during my exams. I don't ship Dan & Phil, but I saw the appeal of youtuber boyfriends and started writing this. The thing is I made it hard to write because everything was to be written in video-format, and the 'main character' is a nameless person who watches every episode faithfully. At one point, I thought of making that character Charlie or Becky, but I never really got to it.

Days in the lives of Dean and Cas

**You have two new mails.**

**From: Youtube**

_One new **video update** from **67Impala.  
** To view new video, press **here**._

**From: Youtube**

_One new **video update** from **CJNovak.  
** To view new video, press_ **_here_.**

**Lazy Sunday Video: Guess who’s going to college?  
By _67Impala_**

>press play to start video<

“Hi everybody! I’m 67Impala and you’re watching another episode of the Lazy Sunday Video!” the voice of Dean Winchester says. Behind the screen, there’s the face of a young adult, barely out of his teens, with dark blonde hair and light freckles on his face that the camera doesn’t really quite catch but everybody knows are there (mostly because of the photo close-ups that have been shared on his Facebook page).

“I guess the title says a lot, but for those who don’t really like reading those or those who have been avoiding spoiler-alerts, well, I have to say that the time is almost finally there!” His smile is wide, teeth white and perfectly lined as he bares them. He looks extremely happy – happier than he normally looks in his videos.

“Yes, that’s true, I’m finally going to college! And y’all be wondering what I’ll be studying, right? I know I’ve gotten some questions about that in the mails that I’ve gotten – so you _see_ , I _do_ actually read them, unlike most of you think.”

Dean pulls out a few white envelopes from what must be a box on his lap, and then starts to show the many things in front of the camera with a wide grin on his face.

“And I thought, while I’m holding these passionate letters of you all, I might as well answer some of the questions through this video because, honestly, I don’t really know what else to do today since I’ve been busy packing up my stuff and haven’t exactly been able to brainstorm today.”

Dean looks down and chuckles as he starts opening the first envelope. Then he pulls out a folded page.

“Okay, let’s see. ‘Dear 67Impala, I’ve been following your channel for a while now and I have to say that I love all your gaming-video’s. Those you do with Sam are also hilarious, but I know they won’t happen much more now that you’ll be going to college.’ Ah, well, I have to say that, though they won’t happen _a lot_ , Sam will still sometimes come over and we will game together like we always have. My roommate will just have to accept that.” He grins towards the camera upon saying that. Then he lifts up the letter once more and scrapes his throat. “’Do you have any idea who your roommate is going to be? And when will be your next visit to any convention? I would literally drive halfway around the country to finally meet you. With love, Amy.’”

Dean drops down the letter again and takes a deep breath. “Wow, Amy, I’m really touched that you would drive out that far away just for me, but I need to tell you that it’s not worth all your money. I’m not really _that_ exciting, especially in real life. Also, people know me as some kind of jerk most of the times, heck, just ask my ex Cassie, she’ll gladly agree with you there.”

He snorts once more, trying to act lightly off it despite the fact that _everybody_ knows he’s been having a hard time about the break-up for months.

“Also, no, I have no idea who my roommate is – nobody ever tells me anything here – but I know that it’s a boy and that he’s about the same age as me. I will film my arrival to the apartment so you can see how it looks like from the inside, but so far all I can tell you is that the walls are sound proof – and obviously _not_ for the reasons you’re thinking off. Can you just imagine the neighbors when they find out the new kid in the apartment next to them likes to scream at his screen when things don’t go his way? No, that might lead to a disaster.”

He picks up the other envelope while he talks and rips the paper to pull out the next letter, opening it up and preparing himself to read out loud.

“’Dear 67Impala-‘ Really, I’m surprised you guys keep calling me 67Impala when it’s been known for a while now that my name is Dean. You want to call me Dean, just call me Dean! I won’t be mad at you or anything.” Dean winks at the camera, but then continues reading. “’I’ve started college, too, last year. It was a scary experience, but I’m glad I did it. I’m sure your roommate will be cool, and maybe he might be your new gaming-partner? I’m sure _anybody_ would be glad to have to opportunity to actually _game_ with you.’ Can I say, no, my mother doesn’t like gaming… She tried once, and let me say that I’ve seen a side of her I never thought I would.”

Then Dean drops down the envelopes once more, throwing his head back as he seems to recall the memory of it. He rubs his hand over his forehead before biting his lip to hold back another laugh.

“No seriously, my mother isn’t strict in any way, but I can assure you that, during that game, she threatened to ground me continuously until I would let her win. Talk about a sore loser, right?” He then shakes his head and quiets down a little bit. “But I forgave her when she baked me pie the next day, so it’s okay, now.”

The letter is once more picked up, and Dean squints a little bit as he tries to continue reading. “Okay, ehm, ‘In case you know, the other Youtuber CJNovak is going to college, too. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him. His videos are a little different from yours, but he does give great advice in each update. It would be amazing if you two would ever meet up.’”

Dean stops talking for a moment, staring straight forward while obviously thinking about something. His mouth opens a little bit, and there might be a little sound escaping as he thinks, but eventually he just shakes his head once more.

“Nope, I’m sorry, I don’t seem to know the guy. But if I will meet another Youtuber in college, you guys will probably be the first to know.”

Then there seems to be a sound from behind, seeing as Dean is turning his head around towards the door.

“Okay, It seems like it’s time to go. By the time this video is posted, I’m probably already settled in, but no worries, I promise future me won’t spoil anything about my future roommate! Talk to you guys later and drive safely!”

Then the screen goes black as the video ends.

**Time for college  
By _CJNovak_**

>Press play to start video<

“Hello my dear watchers. Huh, why is it that I suddenly can’t find any way to open this video? It almost makes it look like I’m going to bring bad news,” Castiel says when his face appears on the screen. He’s got his hand behind his head, scratching his neck and seeming quite a bit nervous. It’s quite a recurring theme; in half of his videos Castiel looks as nervous as on the first video he ever appeared, but then in others he’s just as casual as if he would be talking to a best friend.

“Summer break is ending, which means that it’s once again time for college. For most of you, the first time that’s happening, for others something not so new. And for all those newbies out there, I’d love to give you some tips on how to survive your first day, but sadly that video will only be made next year since this one will be my first day as well.”

Castiel scrapes his throat and picks up a few papers.

“Getting ready for college is actually quite some work. First there’s deciding whatever you’re going to do with the rest of your life; because we’re too young to drink alcohol but old enough to decide _that_ , and don’t even ask me for the logic in that!

“No, but there’s the subject of your education in one hand, but in the other there’s all those other things, such as your residence; are you going to stay at home because you got a college nearby? Are you going to go into one of the dorm rooms, or are you taking an apartment? Are you going to have a roommate? Are you even going to like said roommate?”

As Castiel speaks, he keeps on lifting some fingers while he points it all out. His words get out fast and it’s a surprise he’s not stumbling over them. After that, though, he lets out a breath and eventually gives a small smile to the camera.

“As you can see, I’m actually very nervous. The room you see behind me is from my dorm-room, which I’m going to share with one other boy of my age. I haven’t met him yet, but I’m sure he’ll be arriving soon enough. If he’s not introduced in this video, I either edited him out because he wanted to, or he just simply didn’t arrive.”

Then Castiel lets out a sigh and turns around to look at the empty room behind him.

“This place needs to be made more homey, but I haven’t really started on that yet, mainly because I have no idea yet which bed I’m going to claim. And isn’t that just stupid? Only one bedroom? I guess the rooms with separate bedrooms were already taken.”

Castiel stands up, and with it, the camera shakes with it. It’s obviously recorded with probably a cellphone camera, meaning that the quality isn’t as great as his other content. Not that Castiel’s videos have always been the best of qualities; his budget is probably rather limited.

On the screen, the interior of the bedroom is showed, revealing a bunk bed against the wall and two desks on the other side. There’s one open window giving a glimpse of the view outside; another building.

“So this is the bedroom. I’m rather inclined on taking the lower bed, but I’m going to wait for my roommate to settle this. I wouldn’t want to be the guy that just claims things, even though that’s probably the way things go in college? I wouldn’t know, things in movies probably aren’t too accurate after all.

“The new students probably get the crap places; there’s a public bathroom a little further down the hall, and the kitchen is downstairs, meaning that we literally only have one room. That means that I’m not sure how frequently I’ll be able to record videos. That would depend on the roommate, I suppose.”

Castiel lets out another sigh, showing his face back onto the screen.

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty tired so I’ll probably cut this video short. I promise I’ll give you a better tour of the place tomorrow, when we’re all settled in. There’s probably more interesting things to do than to watch me wait for my roommate.

“Anyway, thank you for watching this video if you did. I’m not going to ask you to like this one because it’s unedited and probably crap. I promise you, I won’t stay this boring! Talk to you guys later. Bye!”

Then the screen goes black. The video ends.

**_Comments_ **

**BekkaWinchester** Oh My GoD FiRsT DeAn PoStS a CoLlEgE vIdEo AnD nOw CaStIeL??????! JuSt ImAgInE tHeY wOuLd Be RoOmMaTeS tHaT wOuLd Be So CoOl!!!!!! PlZ bE tRuE tHeN yOu CaN gAmE wItH hIm AnD bEaT hIs HiGhScOrE iN sLeNdErMaN i BeT uR MuUuUuCh BeTtEr At HoRroR gAmEsSsS pLz TaKe A lOok At My ChAnNeL U wOuLd MaKe Me So HaPpY

**CJNovak** Hello BekkaWinchester. By Dean I suspect you mean Dean Winchester? I haven’t seen his content yet but I heard of him before. I would be honored to meet him one day. As to your suspicions of who my roommate is, just wait for tomorrow’s video. Also, I’m probably too scared to play horror games, but if my roommate helps me, I’ll surely give this Slenderman a try!

**NewDivide0076** I was wondering if your next video could be some tips about how to properly come out to your family and friends? I, along with probably a lot of others, have been struggling with having to tell my parents I’m gay. I know it’s probably a subject you’re not too familiar with, but just to get your opinion would be awesome already. With love, Frank

**CJNovak** Hello Frank, I’m glad you suggested me this. I’ll surely take this request and make something of it. Still, I’m going to give you a teaser; just wait until you’re absolutely ready. Don’t rush things and try to take your time.

 **AssassinsCreedFan544** Oh My God Dean mentioned you in his previous video, and now you’re in your dorm room and everything is almost so official. I think I’m slowly but already starting to ship you two, even if you two have never even met or heard of each other. I wonder what your names would be. CasDean? Deastiel? Destiel? The last one sounds great enough?

 **CJNovak** I don’t really knows what that all means, but Destiel indeed sounds better than the other two. What is it supposed to mean, though? I feel like I’m a little dumb not knowing this; should I be feeling dumb? What’s shipping?

 **NancyyBubbles** This guy here makes videos about tips and tricks of life, and somehow doesn’t know anything about shipping. That roommate of him is going to have to educate him in all of that, me thinks! He’s just too adorable.

**You have two new mails.**

**From: Youtube**

_One new **video update** from **67Impala.  
** To view new video, press **here**._

**From: Youtube**

_One new **video update** from **CJNovak.  
** To view new video, press_ **_here_.**

**Arrival at dorm: THE SECRET ROOMMATE  
By _67Impala_**

>press play to start video<

The video starts up, showing the inside of a car standing still. Through the windows, people can be seen walking by, crossing the street or getting on their way to somewhere. The image turns around a little bit, until it’s finally focusing on the familiar face of Dean Winchester, who smiles down at the camera and gives it a little wave.

“Hi! Sorry for the shaky image, but I’ve just arrived at the location of my dorm and I’m about to check out the room before I start hauling up my crap,” he says, smirking a bit as he speaks. “I’m going to be filming the entire thing so I can show you the hallway, the posters, and the room. Maybe I’ll make it a special feature and show you how hideous the bathroom will surely be!”

Laughter comes out of him, and then he clears his throat. After putting up an old ugly cap, he wiggles his brows once and clicks his tongue.

“Alright, let’s get this show going!” he says. The video shakes once more when he gets out of the car. There’s some cracking noises as he moves the camera around, and then there’s the sound of the car door closing behind him. The camera is pointed at the ground at first, filming Dean’s boots as they march forward.

“Oh, sorry!” he then suddenly says, and he points the device back up towards his face. “Now there’s a lot of people here. I don’t know how many might know me, and I don’t know if this ugly cap will have big effect either.”

As if on cue, there’s some giggling noises from further away, and on the screen Dean can be seen looking to the side before turning the camera around. Then it shows a group of girls looking starstruck; eyes wide and mouths open. A few of them are giggling, pushing one specific girl forward.

“Hi!” Dean says in that same friendly way he always does.

“ _Hi_ ,” can be heard, though the sound comes from farther away and is less clear. “ _Can we- could we-?”_ The girl seems to be stuck on her words, but Dean is as smooth as always and catches up immediately.

“Let’s make a deal; I’ll take a picture with you if you say hi to the camera for me?” he suggests. The girls start laughing even harder, but then there’s confirming answers. Dean lowers the camera a little bit as he comes to stand in between the girls. Then he points up the device and brings it back to his face. This time he makes sure that the girls are visible as well.

“These girls will now be crowned official queens of my fanclub for being the first ones to have noticed me!” Dean jokes, and the girls burst out in laughter once more. Then they start waving at the camera, some of them looking away with reddened cheeks but smiling still. Eventually, Dean lowers his device once more and allows the girls to take a picture. When they ask for an autograph, he doesn’t refuse them.

When they part ways, Dean films as they walk further from him. One of them – a girl with long golden curls – waves one more time at the camera. Then Dean is off again.

A montage starts, showing him being approached by five more different groups, handing them his autograph and taking a picture with them, before he finally enters the building where he’s supposed to go. Once inside, the sound gets a lot stronger from all the people walking around in a cramped hallway.

“Alright, on my way to find my room,” Dean says. It’s probably with a reason that he keeps his room number out of the video, otherwise he would be getting a lot of unwanted visits. “Hi, how’re you doing?” Dean asks a few people as he passes them by. Some don’t recognize him. Others wave at the camera and grin at him. Somebody further back even shouts something at him.

“ _I love your video’s, man!”_

“Thank you very much!” Dean shouts back without taking the camera from his face. He’s grinning widely. “Now, I’ve arrived.”

And indeed, Dean points the camera at a door – keeping the number out of sight, obviously. Of course, with all the people in the dorm recognizing him, word surely will get around. On the screen, a hand appears as it reaches for the door knob.

From the first view, it seems like there’s nobody in here yet. There’s no other person standing there, having claimed one of the beds. Still, Dean points the camera towards a large suitcase and a computer already being set up on the desk. The screen is already lid up, and from it, vaguely can be seen that somebody has been going through YouTube.

Dean turns the camera away, pointing towards the bunk bed where he slowly approaches.

“Whoa, I’m so claiming the top bunk,” Dean says with a grin, throwing his backpack on top of the mattress before anybody else can claim it. “Now, let’s find out who this roommate of mine is.”

And Dean moves from the bed to get to the computer on the desk. From the first view, it seems like quite a crappy device. It’s probably quite old, as well. It’s probably a miracle it still works. Once the camera focuses on the screen, the page that is currently on is shown.

“Whoa, somebody is uploading something on YouTube,” Dean says, but before the name of the user can be read by anybody watching, Dean quickly turns around in reaction of some noise appearing behind him. “Holy _crap_!”

In view comes a familiar figure known on the internet, but one Dean Winchester probably has never seen before. It’s safe to say that quite a few people watching this very video let out a loud and happy scream. One particular viewer is feeling their shipper-heart explode from excitement.

“Apologies,” nobody other than Castiel Novak says, with a low voice and serious face as always. The clothes he’s wearing are the same as from his last video where he showed around his dorm room. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says. Then Castiel looks down and stares straight into the camera.

“I take it you’re a vlogger?” Castiel asks. Dean can be heard chuckling out of the screen.

“Yeah, I promised the viewers that I would share my first moment in the dorm room with them. But if you don’t want-“

“No, it’s fine. Had you arrived earlier, you probably would have been in mine,” Castiel interrupts him in assurance. Then he holds out his hand towards the camera. “I’m Castiel, I guess I’m your roommate.”

“No way,” Dean says, sounding like he’s about to burst out in laughter. “You’re CJNovak, aren’t you? The guy my fans keep on asking me about since my last video?”

Castiel frowns and tilts his head to the side.

“That’s me, yes, though I’m not sure why your fans would be mentioning me?”

“Name’s Dean Winchester, but I’m known as _67Impala_ , too.” And Dean then shakes Castiel’s hand. A lot more screams start in people’s homes. One mother even worriedly hurries into her daughter’s room to find out what’s going on. When she realizes her daughter is simply fangirling over two teenagers from that stupid video website, she rolls her eyes and gets away as quickly as possible.

Castiel smiles at him, and then the camera shifts until Dean is on the screen as well. When he walks back, he suddenly throws one arm around his new Roommate’s shoulder and smirks.

“Well, folks, this is the duo I guess you’ll be seeing quite a lot in the future,” he says, adding a wink to that. Then Castiel smiles lightly as well, and waves shortly at the camera. “I guess this video has had enough reveals for now. I’m going to turn off the camera, and get this room cozy enough with my new pal Cas here. Talk to you guys later and drive safely!”

“Bye!” Castiel quickly adds. Then the screen turns black.

The next hour, the first fanfiction is already posted, and the hashtag #DeanandCas is already trending by the time they reach midnight.

**_Comments_ **

**SunnySideUp3994** OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG WHAT ARE THE ODDS HOW CAN THIS BE THAT TWO OF THE MOST AWESOME YOUTUBERS ARE PUT TOGETHER IN ONE ROOM? ARE THE YOUTUBE GODS TRYING TO KILL US? AND DEAN WRAPPING HIS ARM AROUND CAS’ SHOULDER ITS LIKE THEY’VE ALREADY BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS OMG

**TrishHowFarIllGo** Thank you for sharing this experience with us. I’m pretty sure that in a few years you’ll both be looking back on this video and laugh at how smooth your first meeting has been. Now I wonder what Castiel thinks about you claiming the top bunk, though I’m sure he won’t mind since he pretty much said he wanted the lower one. Upload again soon, please!

**Beckster432** Clearly they’re both be sleeping in the same bed #IShipIt

**GreenleaveLegolass** Oh my god the shippers have arrived please just don’t okay

**UniversalRogue** That’s gay

**Beckster432 _@UniversalRogue_** u got a problem with that?

**My Roommate is a YouTuber? What now?!  
By _CJNovak_**

>Press play to start video<

The next time the inside of Dean and Castiel’s new dorm room is shown, a lot has changed. There’s posters hanging on the walls, the bed seems to be made, and there’s a figure walking around in the background once in a while.

For a long time, all that can be seen is Castiel, looking at his screen without saying anything. Behind him, Dean walks all over the room as he carries his clothes into the closet. Then after that’s finished he takes out another poster and starts putting it up on the wall behind Castiel. The normally-serious youtuber snorts when Dean tries to reach for the upper part but can barely reach it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t put it up that high?” Castiel tries, saying something at last. Behind him, Dean turns around.

“Get your ass here and help me out, smartass,” he says, seeming _extremely_ comfortable around Castiel already.

“I’m trying to record a video,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, to record a video, you should actually _say_ something to your viewers,” Dean counters.

“I can’t talk if you keep on walking around like a nervous chicken.”

“Shut up and help me out.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and looks pointedly at the camera before standing up and walking towards Dean. They’re talking to each other, but it’s too soft for anybody to hear. Then Dean bends his knees a bit and points towards his leg. Castiel seems to sigh but then puts his foot on Dean’s upper leg and allows himself to be hoisted up like that. Then he takes Dean’s poster, and hangs it up before he falls down again. When that almost happens, Dean quickly wraps his arms around his waist to stop him, and then he helps him back down.

“Thanks Cas,” Dean says. Then he climbs on the top bunk to put up the other part, finally revealing the poster of the first Star Wars movie. Castiel gives it a long look before shaking his head taking a deep breath.

Then the image jumps back to him sitting in front of his desk, showing a light smile.

“So here I am again, apologies for that beginning, but I just kind of wanted you guys to see what I was going to have to put up with for the coming school year.”

“ _Shut up, you’re gonna love me!”_ comes in the back. Castiel snorts.

“As most of you have probably figured out, I have discovered who my new roommate is. If you haven’t seen the video yet, just click here and watch our first introduction on Dean’s channel.” Castiel points his finger up, and indeed a link shows up that leads them to Dean’s previous video.

“We’ve arrived here yesterday. Last night after I uploaded the video, Dean and I started to move our stuff into the room. As you have probably seen, Dean quickly claimed one of the beds.”

“Heck yeah I did!” Dean shouts, appearing from the top bed in the left corner of the screen. Castiel snorts once more, which is weird since Castiel often doesn’t laugh that much.

“ _Anyway_ , after that we went to some gathering for new students, and we got to meet a whole lot of new people.”

“Cas even met a girl,” Dean calls out from where he’s seated. Castiel rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“I _talked_ to a girl, and nothing more came from that, unlike what you’d like to think,” Castiel mutters back. Dean laughs, but then shies away again. “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen pictures show up – we did have a lot of people asking us to get one. Don’t be shy, you can always ask.

“Now, as I usually have an actual _subject_ to talk about, let me bring up a subject that has actually never been brought up before; what to do when your roommate is a YouTuber?”

“Is this where I get in?” Dean asks in the back. Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes, but then he nods. “Alright!” and Dean pushes himself from the bed and hurries towards the chair next to Castiel, sitting safely on his right.

“Hi everybody!” Dean says happily, waving at the camera and showing a large smirk. Castiel tries to stay serious, but even in his blank face there are some cracks of amusement. “Now a lot of people might wonder; what is this handsome devil doing in one of these boring videos?”

“My videos aren’t boring?” Castiel counters defensively. Dean simply puts his hand onto Castiel’s mouth to shut him up.

“I’m here to bring some life in here!” Castiel pulls Dean’s hand away.

“No, you’re here to talk about having a YouTuber as roommate,” Castiel asks in confusion.

“I’m here to talk about having a YouTuber as roommate, even though we’ve only been here for less than two days!” Dean corrects himself, but not sounding less enthusiastic about it. Castiel just rolls his eyes again.

“That’s right,” Castiel then says, sitting himself a bit straighter in his chair. “Now I’ve sent out a Twitter post a few minutes ago to tell you all you get to ask us some questions. Let’s check out what you’re saying!”

And then Castiel is moving towards the mouse of the computer, scrolling down a page that appears on the screen. Dean and Castiel move up to a window on the top left, where the two of them look at the posts that are passing by.

“Alright, here’s Jessy123 with the first question,” Castiel starts when he finds what he’s looking for.

_So who tops and who bottoms?_

Dean ends up snorting and hides his face in his hands as he turns away to laugh. Castiel merely tilts his head to the side and frowns.

“I thought it was obvious Dean had taken the top bed? I suppose it’s clear that means I’m on the bottom?” Castiel asks in confusion, making Dean laugh even harder than before next to him. “What?” Castiel asks in confusion.

“Oh pal, _so_ not what they meant,” Dean says, and then he leans back into view and looks straight into the camera. “It hasn’t even been two days and you guys are at it? You’ve all got dirty minds.”

Castiel just looks at him in confusion, and before he can ask for any clarification, Dean takes control of the mouse and scrolls down. Next to him, Castiel still seems to think the last question through.

“Here we go, question from oOVeelentrish – amazing name, by the way.” Dean winks at the camera. The person in particular screams it out the moment she views the video.


	3. Mamma Mia AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma finds an old diary that tells the adventures of his father with the supposed love of his life. To celebrate her wedding, she invites this 'Cas' in the hopes that her Dad won't be so lonely anymore, but quickly she realizes that things aren't that easy!

Mamma Mia

_My dearest Dean_

_I know you told me you didn’t want to hear from me ever again, and I’ll respect your wishes. I write this letter mostly because I need some closure; It has taken us only a week to fall in love, and we stayed together for almost three months. In this time I got to know you and you got to know me, and of this I’m sure; I’ll never love anybody else more than I love you._

_I hope that one day we could start anew, but for now I’ll take my distance, just like you asked._

_Maybe until then, my love._

_Cas_

* * *

“You _what?!”_

Emma Winchester just grins awkwardly as she looks at her two best friends. Krissy’s mouth has fallen open when Emma had been explaining the situation, but she can understand why though. Even thinking of it back right now makes her realize even more how fucked up the situation is.

“I send her an invitation two months ago,” she says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. The glares she receives from Krissy and Patience make her wince for a little bit, but she’s absolutely sure that she’s doing the right thing.

“Why would you do that? It says in the letter that your father doesn’t want to hear anything from her ever again?” Krissy mutters as she pulls the letter from Emma’s hands. The blonde twenty-year-old just rolls her eyes, sighing loudly as if that’s the most ridiculous question ever asked.

“You don’t see him every day like I do. Grandpa John isn’t there anymore, Uncle Sam and Aunt Jess moved away to the main land with Jesse. He’s lonely and soon enough Ben and I will go away from the island as well. Who would keep him company then?” she explains, and that earns her a look filled with compassion from Amber. Oh, she knows how to get her cousin to agree with her!

“Well, has he ever openly complained about it?” Krissy gets out while her brown eyes pass over every sentence of the letter again and again.

“Eh, no not exactly,” Emma starts, but Krissy shakes her head to let her stop talking.

“Then you have no right to meddle in his personal life, Emma. He’s your father, okay, but maybe this woman really broke his heart back in the day?”

They stay quiet for a moment before Emma remembers something. She reaches behind her for her bag and fishes out a journal she found along with the letter. She holds the thing up in the air and Krissy and Patience stare at it with wide eyes.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asks, already lifting her hand to take the book over. Emma pulls back, holding the journal against her heart and raising her eyebrows at her cousin. Patience rolls her eyes in irritation.

“It’s his journal about the summer he and this Cas-woman met. It’s written quite vaguely in my opinion, but it’s very clear that there’s no way he could ever be over her!” Emma defends herself. Patience waits impatiently (hah!) for her to open the thing, but Krissy makes a face.

“Are you sure we aren’t doing something really bad here?” she asks, obviously not on board with the plan. Emma clicks her tongue, obviously waving the questions away and opening the journal to a page she bookmarked.

“ _June 5, 1993. I met Cas today. We’ve been hanging out all around the island today before I had to head back for the hotel. It had been fun. I think I really like this Cas.”_

“Okay so, like, this proves nothing!” Krissy objects, but Emma holds up her finger to shut her right up again. There are so many more entries, and Emma skips those that don’t really say anything, finding another promising one.

“ _June 16, 1993. Cas kissed me today. It had been strange at first, but eventually I found out I actually kind of liked it. I might sound like a hopeless teenager, but hopefully there’ll be more kissing in the future.”_

Krissy obviously still isn’t convinced, but Patience clearly is. She’s jumping on her seat, clapping her hands together in excitement. Her long curls drop over her shoulder, covering her dark skin away from the high sun.

“Read on! Read on!” the eighteen-year-old brunette urges on, and Emma chuckles at her enthusiasm.

“ _June 25 1993. What a night! Cas and I rented out a little boat and sailed around the island. We got down on a little secret beach and we made love for the first time. Man, I’m really turning into a girl but I think I’m actually falling in love.”_

A little squeal comes out of Krissy’s mouth, and the girl presses her fingers against her lips, cheeks colored red at the realization she actually squealed. She’s obviously trying to deny how much she’s actually into the story, but nobody falls for her act.

“ _July 1 st, 1993. This is it. I’m sunken deep now. I am now completely and unconditionally in love with Cas. There’s no turning back now, I can’t even think of anybody else anymore. Cas told me that the feelings are mutual, and to be honest I see no way that we could ever fall apart.”_

“Oh,” Patience says, face suddenly sad. The two other girls shoot her a questioning glance, and she explains herself. “We’ve been screaming like typical girls our age as they got together, but we all know how it ended, don’t we?”

Emma licks her lips as she nods, skipping away the next few bookmarks and going straight for the end. Her voice breaks as she starts to read aloud.

“ _August 25 th, 1993. Cas is engaged to someone else. I don’t even know how I found out. Suddenly there was a ring, and Cas started explaining, but I couldn’t really listen anymore. I told Cas to get out, to stay away from my life forever because I’m not going to get between an engagement, and then suddenly I was alone again. My heart feels like it’s been ripped out. It’s like I can’t even function anymore. I already miss Cas and it’s only been a few hours. There’s no way I’m ever going to let my guard down like that again.”_

The girls stay quiet as Emma stops reading. She lowers the journal down to her knees, and suddenly isn’t really that sure about inviting Cas. Her father had really been heartbroken, and since her mother he hasn’t really been with anybody else. Maybe he just doesn’t want a relationship anymore? The relationship between her mother and her father hadn’t even been a _relationship_ per se. They talked to each other, they lived together, but Emma had always known that her father never really loved her mother.

But looking at this last letter, this Cas had obviously been in pain as well. They were in love, that much is clear, and somehow Emma thinks that they might still love each other despite all the drama.

“How does it continue?” Krissy asks.

Emma looks down for a minute, wondering if she must read again. But the next few words aren’t really something that she and her father like to talk about.

“He met mom, they slept together drunkenly, I got there nine months later, and mom moved in with him for a few years before she skipped out as well,” she says, lowering her eyes and biting her lips.

“You know what, it’s too late to change what you did now, so we’re going to make the best of this opportunity!” Krissy says, pressing a hand on Emma’s shoulder. The blonde looks up in surprise, a little taken aback from Krissy’s smile. “I still think your father is a dweep, Emms, but he deserves a break from being lonely all the time.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Amber almost squealed, biting her red-polished nails. Emma slaps the girl’s hand away from her mouth – it had been an agreement long ago that the cousins would keep each other from biting their nails.

“Hell yeah, I am!” Krissy says, standing up and striking some weird heroic pose. “We are going to play matchmakers these next two weeks.”

Emma feels her stomach warm up again, she throws herself over Krissy’s shoulders, hugging her hard in gratitude. “Thank you thank you thank you!” she calls out. “You are the best friends in the world!”

“Yeah well, I want your old man to be happy as well,” Patience says as she joins the hug. “I can’t wait to find out what Alex and Kaia are going to say about this, though.”

This couldn’t be too bad now, could it?

* * *

“That high enough, Dean?” Ben asks as he turns his head around to the man. From a little further away, Dean Winchester holds his hand against his chin and makes a thoughtful face, squinting a little bit as he checks the painting Ben is holding up.

“Hmm, high yeah, but can you get it a little bit more to the left maybe?” Dean asks, earning him a nod from the boy. Ben gets off the chair, making sure that the painting doesn’t go any lower, and shuffles a little more forward. When he crawls back up, he doesn’t ask, only shooting Dean a questioning glance.

“Yeah, that’s perfect, kiddo,” Dean says, grinning widely as Ben rolls his eyes at the man. He takes out his pencil to mark where the hook should be, and then he pulls back, getting out of Dean’s way as he prepares the drill to make a hole in the wall.

“Emma will love it to have her painting hung up in the hotel,” Ben says as he eyes the painting in his hands again, smiling at seeing Emma’s signature in the lower right corner. Dean makes an agreeing noise as he gets up on the chair – though that’ll probably makes him a little too tall for the marked spot. He tests the drill once before he lines it up to the little dot Ben made and starts creating the hole.

“Yeah, my little girl is a talented one,” Dean says, grinning before he blows away the dust. Ben wants to stop him, but it’s already too late, and the dust gets all in Dean’s face, causing the man to cough. Instinctively, he takes a step backwards. As quickly as he can, Ben races to stop Dean from falling, pushing him against the back to give him back his balance. “Thanks, bud,” Dean mutters as he rubs away the dust from his face.

“Don’t mention it,” Ben answers, returning to take the painting again and offer it to Dean, who’s busy pressing a hook in the hole. “But Dean, about Emma,” he starts.

“What about my daughter?” Dean asks seriously, voice low and almost threatening, but Ben knows Dean sees him as his own son. There’s no way Dean would ever want to hurt him.

“It’s just, she’s mentioned few times already,” Ben tries to explain, but he doesn’t know if there’s a possible way of explaining this. “Well, eh, you know she loves you, everybody knows that, but it’s just…”

“I still treat her like she’s my little child?” Dean answers for him. Ben stops as the words sink through.

“Well, yeah,” Ben answers. His hand goes to his neck from the nerves of making Dean angry. Dean only sighs, though, getting down from the chair to walk closer to the young-adult in front of him. Ben feels calmer immediately when Dean puts a hand on his shoulder.

“A man’s daughter will always stay his little girl, Ben,” Dean says, and Ben can see how the man’s wrinkles get deeper when the man is smiling. It’s not a true smile, because Dean Winchester’s smiles rarely are real. Somehow he’s lost the ability to do that a long time ago. “And I’m glad you love her so much, and I’ll support her in every decision she makes, but don’t you think you’re a little too young to do this?”

Of course Ben has heard this speech before. His mother has given him the speech when he first made the announcement. “Marrying your daughter feels like the right thing to do, Dean,” Ben answers truthfully.

Dean nods shortly and looks down again, obviously not willing to start another speech to change their minds. He pulls back his hand as he takes the painting from Ben’s hand, and attaches it to the hook. Ben hurries back to get a broom, and he sweeps the dust outside, not even bothering to clean it up further as the wind would probably blow it away soon.

When he returns, he comes to stand next to Dean, and both man cross their arms as they look at the painted version of the hotel, now standing proudly in the main lobby.

“I think it’s going to be a beautiful day,” Dean suddenly says, and Ben can’t help but agree.

* * *

Cas Novak walks up the deck from the boat as they slowly approach the island. There’s a strong but warm breeze, and the sun shines warmly down on the water. They have been lucky that there was some expensive cruise heading to the island, or the whole Novak-family would have been forced to travel on the full little boat filled with fishermen and… eh, well more fishermen. And fish.

Claire had been unwilling to go at first when Cas came to ask about what to do.

“ _You_ go to that wedding from your ex’s daughter, but there’s no way _I’m_ getting a foot on a boat – and a plane!” Claire had muttered in the living room, crossing her arms. Her parents hadn’t been happy with that, obviously, and now, obviously against her will, the rebellious teenager is now sulking on the boat.

“We can use this opportunity to go to a real vacation,” had been the bottom line of this whole experience, and now the four Novak’s are sitting on the cruise. Amelia is already in bathing suite, covering herself with sunscreen before actually sitting down in the chair to get her tan. Jimmy is a little further away, trying to get a parrot to talk. The owner’s obviously in tears from laughing as all the beast gets out is “Eat me”. Jimmy is practically fuming, but he doesn’t give up trying to get a decent conversation out of this beast. Meanwhile, Jack is just blinking into the ocean, probably deep in thought like he always is, though Cas noticed a glimpse of a smile on his face so he’s not too worried about their nephew.

Claire stubbornly standing in the open sun, barely wearing clothes as she unashamedly starts dancing to her strange music coming out of her earbuds. It’s a little weird seeing someone dance while there not being any hearable background music. All Cas can hear are the seagulls and the waves. Every time the waves gets high enough, it offers a cool contrast to the heat above when it touches the skin.

When there are footsteps to be heard in the background, Cas turns around to face Jimmy. The man’s face is already red from standing in the sun to long, and he’s obviously sweating.

“Jimmy, take off your shirt if you’re too hot,” Cas says, but Jimmy only shakes his head. Somehow, the man has this complex about being naked. He’s shy or something, because even at the pool he wears a shirt and he never jumps into the water. Only offering the man an eyeroll, Cas turns back to face the ocean. The guy gets sunburnt _once_ and now he’s refusing to take off his clothes…

“So, nervous?” Jimmy asks, and Cas chuckles.

“You have no idea,” Cas says, looking up to face Jimmy again. “I haven’t seen him in twenty-one years, Jimmy. I can’t even believe he even invited me to this wedding.”

Jimmy nods as he listens. He presses a hand against Cas’s shoulder and holds it there for a moment.

“You’ll be fine, Cas,” the man offers as comfort, and Cas leans into his touch before turning back to look at the sea. The island is nearing, and they should get their stuff before they make port. Of course, Claire ignores them when Jimmy calls out for her, and it takes multiple attempts to get Jack out of his train of thoughts.

* * *

Dean isn’t really used to have so many people coming in to his hotel. Normally, the place is quite modest and – to be honest – falling apart most of the time. It’s only because Sam has earned a lot of money with his work that they were able to renovate the building completely last year, but still there are some complaints about toilets not working and stuff.

The forty-four year old man is currently busy checking in some tourists that are intending to stay for a whole week. Dean has trouble understanding them most of the time, but that’s because of their thick German accents. They’re an old couple, actually celebrating their fifty-year anniversary. Dean congratulates them as he hands them their key, and then the two are on their way, being guided by Ben to their room.

“Dean,” suddenly appears from next to him, and the man in question looks up to find his brother standing there at the door opening.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean says, grinning at the man who only rolls his eyes at hearing the name. “How’d you like it on the island?”

The taller man shrugs as he tilts his head a little to the side, not removing his smile from his face.

“We grew up here, Dean, it’s not like I have some things to discover here,” Sam says, coming to lean against the desk. “Say, Jess wanted to ask about renting a speed boat or whatever she’s planning, but the man there told us we had to ask you, so, can you help?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says, looking around the room to find Emma coming down the stairs with Krissy and Patience. “Emms, mind the fort for a while, I need to talk to Pavel; he’s being an ass again.”

Emma looks up in surprise and groans out loud when she realizes she has a job assigned. Krissy and Patience only laugh. They pull her by the arm and get her to the desk where Dean previously stood.

“I won’t be long, sweety, twenty minutes top, okay?”

Emma nods, and after pressing a long kiss in her hair both Dean and Sam make their way out of the reception. Krissy watches them go before she comes to lean on the desk like Uncle Sam previously did.

“Okay, so how are we going to do this?” she asks, taking the pen from Emma’s hand and starting to click the thing, just to annoy everybody. Patience shoots her an annoyed glance.

“I don’t know, she thinks dad invited her,” Emma confesses, earning her surprised faces from her two friends. Then Krissy punches her arm in annoyance.

“Couldn’t you have said that earlier? This woman might come in any moment today and your father would probably freak out at the sight of her!” the girl calls out.

“Well I don’t know, what else what I supposed to write? ‘Please come to my wedding I think my father is still in love with you after all those years?’ Yeah, of course she would have said yes to that!” Emma bites back, pulling the pen out of Krissy’s hand when the clicking gets too much. Patience throws her head back and groans loudly, but then she suddenly notices a few people standing at the entrance.

“You can come in,” she calls out to them. The man seems to have heard because he hurries inside, followed by a bored blonde teenage girl that is chewing a bubble gum.

“Yeah, we would like some rooms, please,” the man says, sounding a little out of breath. Emma nods as she opens up the book again, clicking the pen open and readying herself to write.

“How many?” she asks, eyeing the teenager next to him.

“Eh, three rooms, but if there’s a possibility to have two of them adjoined that would be great,” the man explains, dropping his bags to take out his wallet for identification. Emma takes in the man for a moment; he has messy brown hair that probably used to be styled neatly, but with this heat nothing stays like that, and these dark blue eyes that somehow seem so large. For a moment, Emma is frozen in place as she realizes that, damn, but this man is actually very handsome. Patience seems to agree as she’s excitedly giggling next to Krissy, who only rolls her eyes from their dorkiness.

The girl has four cornrows in her hair that merge into one larger braid, but the rest of her hair is messy as well, dyed probably a little too blonde to be called natural. She has the same blue eyes like this man, but hers are surrounded by tons of make-up that shouldn’t be able to resist the heat yet stays almost perfectly on her skin.

“We can fix that, yeah. So, three rooms, two of them adjoined, how many nights?” Emma asks as she remembers that she still needs to work.

“Uh, make it a week? Is it possible to add a few days later if we decide to stay longer?”

Emma nods as she offers the man a smile, looking down to the paper she has just written all the details on.

“Okay, now your name?”

“Novak, Jimmy Novak.”

Emma freezes on the spot as she hears the name. She looks up in horror as she realizes that this must be the guy that Cas-woman was supposed to marry. It looks like they decided to go on with that marriage despite her affair. Now that could cause some difficulties. She gives her friends a panicked expression, and they do the exact same thing. Krissy shrugs, nodding at the man since Emma still needs to check them in.

“It’s for me, my wife, daughter, nephew and brother,” the man – Jimmy – continues, oblivious of that little display that had just happened earlier. “We were invited to a wedding? Cassie and the bride’s father knew each other, or something like that.”

Emma swallows as she takes the information in. So the girl’s real name is Cassie, huh? And this man is unaware of their love-affair. Okay, no, this is not a difficulty on the road.

This is a freaking disaster.

* * *

“Come on, Dean, you can’t just stay cooped up on this island forever,” Sam brings up for the hundredth time. They are still walking up to Pavel’s rent shop, where they can see Jess still waiting for them. She’s wearing a white dress and her blonde curls are loose. She’s holding little Jesse’s hand, and Dean smiles at seeing his little cousin jumping up and down when he sees them.

“Sammy, please, not again,” Dean mutters to his brother, because he’s heard the story way too much. ‘Dean, you should at least try to date again’ or ‘Dean you can’t stay alone like this because Lydia left you all those years ago’. Oh, if only they knew what’s the real reason of his distaste for any more romantic involvement… To be honest, he never loved Lydia. They slept together, she got pregnant, they tried to make it work, and then she left them. Dean has never mourned her departure, though he mourned for the sadness Emma had to be feeling.

“No, I won’t stop, Dean,” Sam presses on despite Dean’s plea to quit it. “You’re bitter, you’re lonely, and you know that as soon as Ben and Emma are married, they won’t be on the island anymore! You’ll be even more alone.”

So far, Dean never had any reason to think about staying on the island on his own. He knew it was coming, but it had always been far away enough to push it back a little longer. Now, though, there are just two more weeks he can have with Emma before she’s gone too.

So Dean doesn’t answer, but instead quickens his steps in the warm sand. Pablo’s renting shop is coming closer with every move he makes, and he can already see little Jesse beg his mother to run to his father and uncle. Dean remembers when Emma had been so enthusiastic about everything.

And when Jessica lets go of Jesse’s hand, the little boy starts sprinting forward to the man a little further away, and Dean opens up his arms to catch the boy when he arrives.

“Uncie Deaaaaaan!” the ten-year-old yells as soon as he gets close enough, and he literally throws himself in his uncle’s arms, causing the man to take a few steps backwards to keep his ground.

“Ough little guy, you’re getting heavy! Does your daddy give you something else than his rabbit food?”

Jesse chuckles and starts hugging Dean tightly. Dean returns the hug carefully, trying not to hurt the boy. Sam then rejoins them, obviously dropping their previous conversation for now, and the three of them get back to Pavel’s renting shop.

Upon arriving, Dean receives another hug from Jess, but Jesse stays in his arms when he gets to Pavel and starts to explain what exactly needs to be done. Pavel, a teenager that has not yet complete knowledge of how to do customer’s service, listens to Dean’s instructions, and eventually they manage to get themselves a speedboat for them to use.

“Sam, honey, can you go get my bad?” Jess asks as soon as Dean hands them the key to the boat. With a light nod, Sam agrees, and along with his son (though that gave them some strong reactions from Jesse who clearly didn’t get enough Dean-time), they leave back to the hotel. Dean knows that Jess just wants to be alone with him again. He knows she wants to talk to him, to introduce her to another friend of hers that ‘might be good for him’. Dean’s had enough of it, but he can’t get mad at Jess for it. It’s through Jess too that he’s met Lisa in the first place. The two dated for a few months, but things didn’t work out. Now their children are getting married. It’s kind of ironic.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Dean says in surrender, throwing his arms open while he waits for the load he’s about to receive.

“Okay please just hear me out, Deanie,” Jess pleads with her fingers woven together. “She’s a real lovely girl, actually on a holiday here, if you can believe it, and she would be perfect for you!”

“Like Lisa was perfect? Or Carmen? Face it, Jess, there’s no girl that wants to stay with me.”

That earns him a hard punch in the arm from his sister-in-law.

“Please, just talk to her; she’s staying with her grandparents here for this week. Her name’s Cassie and she-.”

“Nope,” Dean interrupts her as soon as the name came out of her mouth. Jess frowns at him from the sudden reaction. “Nope, can’t do it. Thank you, Jess, but no.”

“Oh come on, Dean!”

“Jess, enough!”

Wow, that came out harder than he’d expected, but it gets the reaction he wants from her. She doesn’t look scared, but it’s clear that she’s given up. Again. Then she reaches out her hand to touch his face in all gentleness that makes his throat swell up, and he bites his lower lip when he thinks back to the last time somebody touched him like this.

He had been in love, back then.

“What has she done to you?” Jess asks while she caresses his skin by moving her thumb up and down. Dean leans in to her touch for a moment, but when he tries to talk nothing comes out of his mouth.

“Who?” he asks in a whisper, though he knows what she means. She thinks he’s broken, that some girl broke his heart and left him in pieces and unable to ever recollect himself. She’s almost right.

But he can’t think of it. _It_ is supposed to stay far away inside his mind, put away in a little box in another small box where he’s unable to ever reach it again. Yet, with just one touch, the walls around that memory just drop like their wet paper.

“One girl broke your heart, Dean,” Jess tells him gently. “But that doesn’t mean all of them will. You just need to believe that, with time – and a little effort – you’ll find somebody in no time.”

Dean sighs and takes Jessica’s hands in his own, then wraps her in a tight hug. He’s taking a deep breath to keep his emotions leveled.

“I love you, Jessica, and I’m grateful that you care, but this isn’t something any of us can repair.” Then he presses a soft kiss on her forehead and pulls back a little, keeping one arm around her shoulder. Together they walk to the docks to get to the boat they rented.

* * *

The mornings on the island are always the same; Emma stands up, takes a morning walk, passes by the local bakery to get her and her dad some bread for breakfast, and then she takes the first ‘shift’ at the lobby. It’s how it has been since she’s been old enough to even be allowed to stand at the reception, and though it seems like it’s boring work, she’s glad at least this way she can help her father a little.

This time, though, when she comes down, instead she sets herself down with her cousins at their breakfast table. But only because she’s received a text message from Ben, saying that he would bring bread on his way to the hotel. So, now she finds herself in a discussion with aunt Jess about the flowers, meanwhile trying to ignore Jesse pulling at her hair that she didn’t put up in a bun.

“Jesse, stop playing with your cousin’s hair and eat your breakfast!” Sam calls out without looking up from his paper. With a scowl, the boy gets back to his cereals. Instead, Patience claims attention of her hair and starts braiding it together. Emma doesn’t comment on it, but thanks the girl when she’s done.

There are a few guests entering the eating-hall; Emma recognizes the old German couple she saw her father sign in the last day. But there’s also the group of teenagers that reserved for the whole week. Families are here with their children, and the little ones wait impatiently in line of the buffet.

It’s when she sees the bored, blonde wild-haired teenage girl walk in that she remembers in what kind of shitty situation they are finding themselves.

 _Oh yeah, daddy’s ex-girlfriend is in town and she’s married to what is probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen staying at this hotel_.

The girl looks a little dumbfounded as she stands there in the middle of the entrance. It’s as if she’s hesitating between actually taking food or run away as fast as she can.

“Excuse me,” Emma tells the people at her table, and she stands up to walk towards the girl. When they’re standing right in front of each other, the girl’s blue eyes go big in surprise. Emma holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Emma, do you need any help?”

The girl doesn’t take the hand but eyes it suspiciously. “Hmm, you’re the girl that’s getting married?” she asks instead. She hides her hands away in the pockets of her short jeans. Emma pulls back too when she sees the girl isn’t going to answer the shake. “Claire Novak, and no offense, but I hate every second I’m away from home, so if you want company, I’m not it.”

“Ah, well, you know, I hated the island as well at first, but in the end it kind of grows on you,” Emma says in a subtle defense. Claire huffs disbelievingly and eyes her from head to toe. Her gaze is intense, just like her father’s.

“Yeah, right, that’s why you’re skipping out as soon as you two tied the knot.”

Emma can’t help but scowl at her for that remark. Who does she think she is? You can’t just say that to somebody you just met.

“In my own defense, I plan on coming back here after we return from our road trip,” she almost snaps. “How did you know, anyway?”

Claire holds up her hands in surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave her face. Emma dislikes the girl more and more with everything that comes out of her mouth.

“Hey, sorry okay, I have this bad habit of pushing people away from me. You seem like an okay girl, I’m just a jerk.”

Okay, now Emma is completely confused. This girl is just one big mystery. Before she can say anything more, though, the girl’s family walks back in; her father and her mother, both of them in a discussion about the weather. Suddenly, extremely aware again that her father’s ex-girlfriend has just arrived, Emma gets out a fake laugh in all nervousness. Her hand reaches for behind her head, and she already takes a few steps back.

“Uh, well, it was nice to meet you, Claire,” she tells the girl quickly, to which Claire only lifts one eyebrow. “I hope your stay won’t be as disappointing as you think it’ll be!”

And then she’s off, making her way through the tourists, past her uncle and aunt’s table, and through the hallway that leads to her father’s room. She knocks faintly and doesn’t even bother to wait for an answer before she gets in. The man doesn’t look up when she storms inside. Neither when she drops herself on his bed and starts groaning loudly.

“What’s wrong now, sweetie?” her dad asks her wile folding up his clean sheets. After that, he gets to his closet to put them inside and then he sits himself down next to her.

“I think I might have done something stupid,” Emma confesses in her pillow, almost sure her father couldn’t hear that. When she feels his fingers go through her hair, she calms down a little bit.

“Then try your best to fix it,” he tells her, because Emma’s father knows well enough not to ask for details about these things. That’s the best thing about him; he gives her the chance to fix her mistakes, and damn did she make one now!

She never should have invited this Cas-woman to her wedding. Of course she’s married to a super handsome model! Of course she has a child! Just because her father is as stubborn as a rock when it comes to love doesn’t mean the woman he once loved is as well. She would have moved on, the way her father should have.

She receives a small kiss on the back of her head; a good luck kiss from her father before they start the day.

“Come on, baby girl, let’s make some customers happy.” Dean is already on his way to the breakfast room then, but Emma stops him before he can get out of his room. The girl stands in front of the door with her arms spread and a panicked face. Her father crosses his arms and arches one eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“Eh,” the girl starts. “I’ll get you breakfast on bed, daddy dear! It’s been so long since you’ve been taken care of by somebody else! Please just let me do this for you?” She tries her best to put up her best begging-expression. She pouts, blinks a few times too many, holds on to Dean’s arm with such a strong grip to push him back to his own bed.

“O-okay,” the man mutters hesitantly, and then he sits down again on the bed with his head raised high, eyes stuck on his daughter as she runs back out of the room


	4. Sense8 AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had these big plans for this AU, but in the end I felt like it would be too complicated, so I kind of decided to drop it. Still wanted to share whatever I had already written for it.

> News reporter: Cassie Robinson – Afghanistan, originally America. Goes around to find the news on warzones. Former girlfriend of Dean’s, but two didn’t separate on friendly terms.
> 
> Police Agent + driver: Dean Winchester – San Francisco, originally Lawrence, Kansas. Officer of the law, coming from a whole line of police-family. Brother is a lawyer. Accidentally impregnated his last long-term girlfriend in high school and got full custody of his ten-year old daughter after Lydia’s death.
> 
> Hacker: Charlie Bradbury – Sweden, originally San Francisco. Known blogger and Gay rights activist, she’s had a difficult past as her parents died when she was younger. With a new identity she began using her hacking abilities to help the others. When in Sweden she meets Dorothy, who ends up becoming her girlfriend. 
> 
> Physician: Castiel Novak – Moscow, Russia. Where being openly gay is dangerous, Castiel keeps a big secret. As his family expects him and wife Daphne to start with children, Castiel starts feeling the pressure on his shoulders.
> 
> Musician: Kevin Tran – Hong Kong, China. Famous cellist, national and international champion, Kevin lives for his music. Next to that, he’s also extremely smart with chemistry. He has a girlfriend called Channing.
> 
> Thief: Bela Talbot – London, England. Not easy to trust others, nobody seems to trust her either. But having 8 people inside her head makes them see the insecurities she’s truly hiding. She’s had a hard past and had been used by all the people that she was supposed to trust.
> 
> Actress: Jessica Moore – Marseille, France. Originally from America, Jessica moved to France for the recordings of her current TV-show she’s starring in. She’s also interested in Dean’s younger brother.
> 
> Fighter: Arthur Ketch – London, England. Kind of a dick, but good with his hands. Especially self-defence. 

# Limbic Resonance

It all happens in a dark, abandoned church.

Half of the windows have been destroyed by young kids throwing stones through them, as is evidenced by the rocks on the floor. In the middle of the room, on the top of the small stairs is a worn out mattress. Something that could easily belong to a homeless person.

Around the mattress, many things are scattered. Dirty clothing, syringes with used needles. Wrapping paper for various energy bars. There’s a bag on the left side of the mattress. And in the middle, shivering and gasping, lies a single woman.

She’s curled up into herself. Her left hand is holding on to her ankles, her legs covered in sweat. Her right arm is thrown out behind her as she’s trying to reach for something. But, trembling as she is, she doesn’t seem to manage getting it.

Suddenly she groans in pain, her left hand letting go of her leg as she balls it into a fist, pressing it against her mouth. She needs to be quiet. With difficult movement she sits herself up, a tear falling over her cheek when the maneuver seems more difficult than expected.

Reaching for her bag, she pulls out another glass bottle. How she got it does not matter. What matters is that she takes it in immediately. She cries as she breaks the top off, throwing the glass far away so she doesn’t cut herself. Then, with her other hand she takes the syringe, puts a fresh, sterile needle upon it, and she pulls up the medicine. It’s all practiced movements now. Routine.

But before she can do the injection, the syringe falls out of her hands. It rolls a bit further away, but out of her reach. Another sob escapes from her. She reaches out for it, but her face lowers onto the mattress.

She isn’t surprised when she feels a hand taking hers. It’s warm, familiar. And followed by a voice that brings much comfort.

“I’m here,” the man says. The hand holding hers squeezes her fingers. The woman looks up, trying to smile but failing at it.

“Inias,” she whispers, barely audible. “It hurts so much.”

“I know,” Inias answers. He pulls her up, holding her close to him as he wraps an arm over her shoulder. “It always does.”

“I need the medicine,” she begs of him. As Inias presses closer, her once-fiery red hair falls over her face. It’s tangled, unkept, washed out, but she doesn’t care. There are more pressing matters than her hair.

“There’s no more time,” Inias answers. “It’s now or never.”

“I can’t do it.” She’s crying louder now, nearly doubling over once again but Inias stops her, holding her back. He kisses her gently on the back of her head, a familiar feeling by now.

“Yes you can,” Inias counters. “You’re the strongest of us all.”

And the woman sobs louder, because is she? Is she really the strongest of them all, after everything she’s done? Does she deserve this much compassion and praise from her friend? Her lover?

“So many people died because of me,” she returns as she shakes her head. A tear rolls down her cheek, falling onto Inias’ arms wrapped around her. “I don’t want that to happen anymore.”

“Nobody’s going to die. I won’t let it happen,” Inias assures her.

And then the feeling, the pain becomes too much. It tugs at her brain, at her soul. At her entire being. Leaning against Inias is a comfort, although only a small one. Nothing can take the pain away; it hurts every time. Only this time, weak as she is, it feels unbearable.

Inias sets her back down on the mattress as she tries; She tries her damnest. But as she makes it happen, she feels all the strength leaving her limbs. Her heart racing, her head feeling like it’s going to split apart.

One more wave of agony, and then, all so sudden, it’s gone.

The exhaustion is still there, granted, but the pain, the excruciating tugging inside her head is gone at last. She sits up, eyes looking upward as she expands her mind. A surprised gasp escapes from her mouth.

“I see them,” she says. There’s a flash of a ballroom and bright-colored dresses. A red-headed woman starting up a cigarette in a snowy landscape. A bow playing flawless tunes on a cello. A doctor scrubbing his hands in preparation for surgery. A police car stopping in his tracks. A woman putting down her camera as she prepares to run away from an explosion. Somebody putting on her high heels. A woman hesitating in the middle of a fight she was supposed to win.

For a moment. For one moment, all of them see her. And they stop in their movements, each of them gazing at her with wide eyes and clear confusion on their faces.

And it feels good. It feels perfect, almost. But at the same time, it feels like too much. And as quickly as she found them, as easily they disappear again. The woman closes her eyes and feels herself fall back, only to be stopped by Inias who catches her.

“You did it,” he praises her, gently kissing her cheek. She chuckles happily despite the situation, but immediately after that she grabs him by the shirt, pulling him closer.

“Protect them,” she begs. “With everything you’ve got.”

And Inias nods as his hand passes over her cheek. “I will,” he promises. He leans forward to kiss her once more, only to stop by the sound of tires screeching from outside the church. The two look to the side, a cold wave of dread passing through the woman.

They’re here. Nobody needs to say anything; it’s obvious like that. It was inevitable, after all. And to make it worse, _he_ ’s there, too.

She can feel him. He’s creeping closer, crawling where he shouldn’t. And Inias notices it immediately.

“Fight him,” he warns her, but the woman shakes her head.

“I can’t,” she breathes out. It’s too late, as she feels another presence sitting behind her, shuffling through her stuff. She can’t even sob, can’t do anything. Having him here makes her fill up with dread and anger.

“Sweetheart,” that ugly, nasally voice says from behind her. “So _this_ is how you’ve been hiding from me, huh?” He holds up a couple of opened packages, the content since long gone. She used all of it, which had been why she moved to the injections afterwards.

Inias is quiet for a few seconds as the woman doesn’t respond. “Does he know?” he asks. The woman nods wordlessly, and the man notices.

“My, my, you’re giving birth at this very point, aren’t you?” he chuckles nastily, a hand passing over her bare shoulder. She doesn’t move, too exhausted to fight away from it. “I can feel how much it hurts. You know I can take it away.”

“Whatever he says, don’t listen to it. You know what a monster he is,” Inias whispers at her.

The woman sighs, her mind already made up. She turns towards Inias, hissing at him: “Go.”

And the man notices. “He’s here,” he states.

“No,” Inias begs of her. He knows what her options are. There aren’t many, after all.

“Please,” she urges on. She can hear the man speak further behind her, but all her attention is put on Inias. It’s all she can do not to reach for him and take his hand. It’s too much contact. The relief is strong, too, when she sees him stand up.

“I love you,” he tells her, and the woman manages one last smile. A genuine one.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back.

“Ugh, love, so sentimental!” The man complains. And at last, Inias is gone. That is good, because she wouldn’t want him to see this. Wouldn’t want him to have this image in his memories. Reaching to the side, she takes her bag. Shielding it away from the man’s view, she digs through it and fishes out a handgun. She stole it when she escaped. There had only been one bullet in it, and she made sure to make it count.

“Oh, come on now, Anna. We both know you won’t actually do it,” the man whispers into her ear. “We both know you’re too afraid of death.”

She doesn’t answer as she lifts up the gun, raising it towards her head.

“You know there’s too much work that needs to be done. Think of all the lives we’ll save, huh?”

She shakes her head. They’re lies. All of it, everything he says. Nothing is true about it. The barrel of the gun presses against her lips.

“Anna,” the man warns her just as the doors to the church are opening. She looks at the intruding men, all o them dressed in dark clothing to keep the stealth. But they’re all too obvious here. There’s no need for stealth.

“No,” she mutters back, tired of his voice. Amongst the men storming inside she can see him, now in person. He’s storming inside, hurrying to get to her. And one last time she smiles.

“Give me the gun, Anna,” he warns her once again. She can just smirk, seeing him approach. He gets closer, closer. “Somebody stop her!”

“Go to hell, you monster,” she tells him back, right before pulling the trigger.

* * *

It’s the same dream as always.

At least, that’s what he thinks it is. It probably is, because last thing he can remember he wasn’t eight years old. And there hadn’t been a young, pale boy in his room wearing torn white scrubs, urging him on to follow him.

“Dean,” a faint voice says. “C’mon.”

And Dean was no longer in his room. He was in a whole other place. Somewhere he can’t describe. It’s dark, cold. Scary. He doesn’t want to be there. But the boy stands further away, waiting for him to follow.

There’s water streaming down the hall, where he’s now apparently walking. The closer he gets, the clearer the boy becomes. _Cole_ , his mind tells him.

“ _Help me_.” But his mouth isn’t moving. And as Dean approaches, he realizes that he’s no longer a kid. Looking down, he sees that he’s back to himself. His grown-up self. In uniform and everything.

He enters an open room. The only light coming from the moon shining through the broken windows. And there’s a mattress, on it a woman. She’s wearing a dirtied white dress, and as she sits up he gasps in surprise.

“Dean,” she whispers at him right before lifting up a gun and shooting it right into her face. There’s the sound of a shot and Dean startles awake. He reaches for his gun underneath the pillow, aiming it into the emptiness of the room as his heart beats like crazy. He’s out of breath, sweaty, and suddenly aiming at somebody standing in the room.

“Daddy?” comes out. Dean lets out a shocked gasp as he lowers the gun, realizing that he almost shot his own daughter. He blinks a few times to try and wake up before clearing his throat.

“Uh, hey baby girl, what are you doing up?” he asks, hearing immediately how his own voice sounds strained. He puts the gun away and finally looks up at his girl. Emma hesitates a bit before approaching him at last, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“I heard you making noise. You had a nightmare?” she asks, obviously worried. She comes to sit on his lap and Dean takes another deep breath before he picks her up, leaning back against the bed to hold her close. Emma presses her face against his chest, probably trying to search for his heartbeat.

“I’m fine Emms,” Dean assures her, though grunting when he makes a movement that points out to him once again that he’s having a major headache. His ears are ringing, and the music in the background is really getting on his nerves. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But you’re not feeling well,” Emma counters sadly. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Dean should tell her no, should tell her that she’s getting too old to stay over. But that’s not true – she’s only eight years old. Besides, with that loud music playing in the background, he would understand why she’d want him to stay with her.

“Yeah,” he then mutters. “Yeah, you can. Just- lie down for a bit, okay? I need to take care of something and I’ll come back right after.”

Dean lifts her back up and puts her down on the mattress, pulling up the sheets and throwing it over her. Emma stares at him with wide eyes.

“What are you gonna do? Are you gonna take a sleeping pill? Felicia says that’s what her mom does and now she can’t sleep without them. She says they’re bad.”

Dean chuckles, passing a hand through her sandy hair. “No Honeybee, I’m not taking a sleeping pill. A painkiller, though, is possible. But first I’m gonna take care of that music, okay?”

He sees Emma frown, but he doesn’t stay long enough to hear the question she throws his way. Dean walks out of the room, bare-chested and only wearing his pajama-pants. He exits the apartment, walking towards his neighbors’ door and knocking against the wood.

“Dude, hello?” Dean asks, trying to stay calm. What are these people even thinking playing this loud music here? There are kids living here. It’s a school night! These people should know better.

But there’s no answer. Dean tries again and again, knocking louder each time.

The music stays as loud as it was. Nobody answers to him. His headache is killing him and he’s starting to lose his patience. He’s this close to slamming against the door and threaten with the ‘police-card’, until that soft voice comes back up.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” Emma asks as she rubs her eyes. She’s clearly tired and definitely needs to sleep. Dean should get this music down immediately.

“I just need to tell these people to turn down the music so we can get some sleep,” Dean tells her. “They shouldn’t be making this much noise at this hour.”

And Emma frowns, exiting the apartment as well as she takes her father’s hand into hers. “Daddy there is no music,” she tells him. “And Mrs. Turner doesn’t live there anymore. We saw her leave yesterday. Do we have new neighbors?”

Emma has this habit to ask question after question, and Dean almost didn’t catch it. She says there’s no music? But there’s music everywhere. That’s the whole damn problem! _Somewhere_ music is playing at it’s keeping him awake, feeding this massive headache that keeps on getting stronger by the minute.

Realizing that she’s right about Mrs. Turner moving away earlier, he puts his hand on the doorknob and turns it, surprised when it comes along. The door to the apartment opens and as Dean steps inside it all stops.

There’s no more music, only the sound of the city in the background. The apartment is empty, safe for some leftover boxes that Mrs. Turner didn’t deem worthy of taking along.

“What the hell?” he asks in confusion. He could have sworn that he heard music. It was loud and clear, as if he’d been standing right in the middle of a party.

“Can we go to sleep now?” Emma asks. Dean then remembers that his daughter is standing next to him, obviously tired and worried. Dean should get her back to bed. He, too, should try and get some sleep.

A painkiller. That’s what he needs. And maybe a shrink, too.

“Of course, let’s go, Honeybee.” Dean picks her back up and guides her back into their home. For the rest of the night he hears the faint echo of the party playing inside his head.

* * *

Charlie Bradbury really isn’t into it.

It had been Gilda’s idea to let loose, to just have some fun and enjoy the place while they were together. Stockholm wasn’t meant to be her home, after all. It was just a place she was passing through, heading to her real destination. Where-ever that is.

But Gilda came across this flyer to what looked like an amazing party, and when she begged Charlie to come along she thought it had been a good idea. Now, though, she’s not so sure about that anymore.

The music’s loud, the people are standing too close and Charlie’s pretty sure she’s seen Gilda checking out some other girls. Not that it should drive Charlie jealous, since they’ve established that they’re not exclusive. Being destined to be separated by countries does that to a relationship, after all. Charlie doesn’t even want to try the long-distance thing.

In fact, she doesn’t even want to try anything. She just wants to dance, hook up with the hot girl she met a few months back and have fun.

But… she’s not having fun. Instead, she’s having a massive headache that makes her want to squeeze her eyes shut and go to sleep. Perhaps she should just tell Gilda that she’s not feeling too well.

“Charlie!” she hears despite the noise. Turning around, she finds Chris and Tess approaching them. They’re Gilda’s friends, but they seem awfully interested in Charlie since she’s a foreigner.

“Guys!” Gilda calls out happily, opening her arms to pull them into a hug, despite all the dancing people around them. Charlie sighs but goes along with it.

“I think we saw some Americans not too far away,” Tess says.

“Yeah, they were all super-hot,” Chris adds playfully.

 _They’re always hot,_ Charlie thinks to herself. Because Chris finds everybody hot. Just like Tess has a thing for Americans. She’s probably wishes to marry one and move to the United States. Gilda, on the other hand, feels like she doesn’t need the commitment. It’s probably the reason why Charlie can’t get her to call her ‘girlfriend’. It’s ‘too official’ she would say.

To hell with that. To hell with everything. Normally she likes hanging out with everybody, but not today. Not right now. Because right now she just wants to go to bed

* * *

It’s been a hard couple of years. Sure, he’d never had any trouble in school, and his parents were happily married and never got suddenly fired or whatever. But then again it only started when he’d been seventeen. Prom night, he can remember exactly.

It was supposed to have been fun – hell, it _was_ fun. He had the intention of going with Lisa at first, but as the two broke up before the day actually came, he’d quickly asked Lydia out instead, both of them knowing he only did that to make Lisa jealous. To make her realize what she’s missing. Well, it had been Lydia’s idea as well.

But, somebody spiked the punch, and Lydia’s parents ended up not being home, and one thing led to the other. His plan of winning Lisa back had backfired immediately when Lydia arrived at school, a couple of weeks later, with the news that she was pregnant and she expected him to help pay for all her medical bills.

There hadn’t been a talk, no ‘hey, so I know we’re teenagers and nowhere near ready to have kids but would you mind it if you became a dad at age seventeen?’. There had only been a picture of the first ultrasound which she pushed into his arms and nine months later there was a baby.

To be fair, he wouldn’t trade Emma up for anything. Sure, she’d been unexpected, but he loves her so fucking much that he would do it all over again. But at first, it hadn’t been easy at all.

Obviously, his parents hadn’t been happy with him. They were too young to become grandparents, Dean wasn’t responsible enough yet to have a kid. There was the usual speech that he’d heard a million times. Lydia’s parents, on the other hand, never said much. They were probably silently disappointed with them.

They tried living together. Tried becoming a family and taking care of their daughter. But Lydia quickly realized that she didn’t like taking care of kids. She didn’t want to be a mother and it was obvious enough that she hated Emma for taking away her freedom. And the hardest part was when, one morning, Dean woke up to find her having left – for good. There hadn’t been any contact with her parents (they’d disappeared as well, after all). He was just left behind, still in school with no money to his name.

His parents had taken pity on him. He worked his ass off at a local supermarket and even at his Uncle Bobby’s garage just to take care of Emma. Not wanting to see their son suffer too much, Mary and John Winchester helped him out during the difficult times. Giving him a chance to finish school and follow into his father’s footsteps to become a police officer, one way or another he had managed to get his life back on track. And eventually ten years had passed and he’s living in a small house with a over-active kid in the house.

Despite having only had one more longer-lasting relationship after Lydia – if his ‘thing’ with her could even be called that – Dean has after that never really made another attempt to get to know anybody else. Just the casual hook-ups were enough for him. He doesn’t need another heartbreak, after all.

It happens a few times again after that, each time more subtle after the other. It had often just been moments where he simply thought that he was getting sick rather than anything else.

But the most obvious time had been at work. He’d been sitting in the car, behind the wheel while Victor was sitting next to him, slurping from his slushy as he looked over some case-files that she brought along.

“Dude, what’s this?” Victor had asked, and Dean hadn’t really known how to answer that. How could you say that you’ve been looking into an abandoned building where nothing supposedly happened, except for that a woman shot herself in the brains in some fucked up dream he had?

“I think a woman died here,” Dean says.

“Okay, and you’ve got evidence for that somewhere?” Victor was right, of course. There was no reason for him to suggest that somebody died if he didn’t have proof. But if he was fair, that dream had felt so real, so… life-like. And then when he drove past the broken-down church during something as simple as patrol, he began looking into it.

“I… don’t, okay. I’m just… really sure about it.”

“Yeah, no, you being sure about it isn’t going to help your case at all, Winchester,” Victor laughed before returning to his slushy. He hands Dean back the file with his eyebrow raised. “What’s with you lately? Your daughter been keeping you up or somethin’? Or maybe somebody else keepin’ you up?”

“Nah, nothing like that, man,” Dean counters, only to be fair his own right hand did keep him awake during the night due to being so _horny_ for no reason all of a sudden. It was strange, but not entirely unpleasant. “Can’t we just, I dunno, take a look inside?”

“I mean we could. If you got any kind of warrant or something. Which I doubt you have.” When Dean shakes his head, Victor shrugs: “Point made.”

“The legal system sucks,” Dean mutters. Victor then bursts out laughing.

“Hah, don’t tell your brother that or he’ll disown you!”

“He can’t disown me. It’s me who owns him,” Dean jokes back. Victor only rolls his eyes as he puts his slushy down and looks outside the window.

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that, smartass.”

His brother, being little Sammy who is by now not so little anymore, is the reason why Dean eventually moved away from Kansas and got himself a place in San Francisco. Not that Dean is particularly fond of this city, but there had been a job waiting for him and it was sure as hell a lot closer to Stanford than Lawrence was.

But then that little shit took on some stupid internship out of the country, somewhere in France, where he would be staying for two years. It was something he ‘needed to do before he could graduate’ or some shit like that. Dean isn’t too sure about the details. He had only pretended to be happy for him, only to hate the entire thing in the secret confinements of his head.

The sudden cracking from the radio startles both of them as the familiar voice of Jody sounds through the device.

“ _Any responders, this is Mills. Someone called in a 10-66 in the Havelock St. Parking near Balboa Park. Any officers nearby, please report to the scene.”_

Dean gives Victor a quick look before taking the radio. That location isn’t too far from where they currently are, after all.

“Mills, this is Winchester, we copy. We’ll take a look.” Then he puts the radio back down and takes the car out of park. “Ready for some action, pall?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Victor returns with a grin. Then Dean turns on the sirens and drives up onto the road, getting himself to the requested scene.

It hadn’t been far, and before Dean knows it he turns down the siren so as not to alert any suspicious persons hiding in the parking lot. Then he parks the car not too far from it, grabs his gun and follows Victor out of his car. Preparing himself to find a car thief or somebody at the verge of an assault, he’s surprised when he exits the car and ends up in a dark park.

He stops in his tracks, blinking in confusion as he looks around. While San Francisco isn’t exactly a place that conforms to California’s temperatures, he’s pretty sure that it wasn’t freezing when he last looked out the window. But now as his eyes land onto his gun, he notices that there are snowflakes falling upon them.

Snowflakes.

That shouldn’t be. It wasn’t going to snow today. Nor this month?

“What the Hell?” Dean mutters. He walks forward, taking cautious steps while keeping his gun raised, ready to shoot if necessary. But there’s barely anybody here. A lantern is shining, and a couple of people are talking to each other as they pass him, but nobody pays him any mind. He does, though, as he realizes they’re speaking Russian.

Then Dean notices one single individual sitting on a bench, with his elbows resting onto his knees. The man has a tan coat and a blue scarf around his neck. On his head there’s a bonnet. As he breathes, small clouds of air form at his mouth. Dean’s breath catches just shortly.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dean asks, startling the man. When he turns, his dark eyes meet Dean’s. He frowns, shaking his head.

“You’re American?” he asks with a low voice. But as he speaks, Dean quickly notices that he’s not speaking English.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean returns. “Where am I?”

“Bittsevskiy Park,” the man explains. “Are you alright, sir? Did you hurt yourself?” He frowns at Dean, looking him over quickly as if to check if there’s anything wrong with him.

“Uh, no,” Dean counters. “Just- where’s this Bittsy-park?”

“ _Bittsevskiy_ ,” the man corrects him. “In Moscow?”

Moscow? Now he’s completely going crazy. He lowers his gun at last, looking around once again. If he’s hallucinating, then why does he’s feeling like he’s actually freezing his ass off? Where’s Victor? How did Dean suddenly get here?

When a strong arm grabs him by the shoulder and shakes him, the entire scenario around him changes. Suddenly it’s light again. The snow is gone, the temperature raising a few numbers. He’s no longer shaking, though he’s pretty sure he’s still got goosebumps all over his arms and legs.

“Hey, dude, it was a false alarm. We can go,” Victor tells him. Dean blinks in confusion, turning to see his partner standing there with his gun also put away. On the parking lot a couple of people are looking at them.

“Uh,” Dean gets out, feeling disoriented for a moment.”

“Dude, you okay? You sure you got enough sleep this night?” Victor sounds concerned. Dean frowns as he realizes his worrying his friend. He shakes his head, rolls his shoulders before forcing up a smile.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I think I just caught some bug from Emms at home,” he lies. Victor scrunches his face together as he takes a step back.

“Hey, man, keep your germs to yourself, okay? I don’t wanna get sick.”

Dean shoves him in the arm before nodding towards their car. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”


	5. A Key and a Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel just got accepted in a professional music-school, and is completely focused on his ambition to become the best pianist they ever had; which means he doesn’t tolerate any distractions. Then he meets Sam and Dean Winchester, two brothers who like to joke around, but manage to combine social life and school. He tries to figure out how they to pull it off to be so popular and good at their instruments at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, in fact, the very FIRST fanfiction I've ever started writing. It's also the start of my fanarts. I really wanted to finish this story, but I had a lot of problems at home that were very challenging so in the end I had to drop it.

**Prologue**

Stress.

That’s the first thing Castiel thinks of while sitting in front of that piano.

All he can think of are those people behind him, keeping their eyes on this skinny boy with dark brown hair, wearing a black suit his friends gave him for his birthday. He has never played in front of such a big audience before, en now he realizes it is way more different than playing casually while the family is running through the house or in front of a small room of parents during a class concert. At this point, everybody’s focused on this twelve year old kid who takes a deep breath, and raises his hand just above the keys. Yet he doesn’t touch them just yet. Before he plays, he needs to be sure that he is completely into it. He needs to know what he’s playing, how fast he’s going to play it. Which finger should be on what key?

 _I’m playing ‘The Little Shepherd’ from Debussy. Tempo isn’t too fast, but changes during the song. The first note is a G sharp, or a sol, and it will be played by the middle finger_.

With that, Castiel puts his middle finger on that specific key, beats the tempo in his head, and starts playing the first bars with only his right hand. His left one is still resting on his leg, waiting until it’s needed.

He is well aware that Anna and Balthazar are sitting on the front seat, just like they promised. Castiel doesn’t want them sitting there, but he’s the youngest, so they don’t listen to him at all, sadly.

Castiel has never met his parents. He knows very well who his father is; he receives a little money from the man every Christmas and on his birthdays, but apart from that there’s no indication that he even exists. He’s lost his mother right after he was born, and after various foster parents, Castiel ends up in an orphanage. He doesn’t really mind, though. He’s at home there, with his best friends who currently are sitting in the audience, listening at how he carefully plays the notes one by one, finishing the song with two fingers that barely puss the keys, but still produces a sound loud enough to be heard. After that, he doesn’t immediately remove his hands. He overthinks what he has played. As far as he knows, there were no mistakes. He hasn’t failed. He’s actually content with his performance.

That thought is his queue to drop his arms, and to stand up. That causes the audience applaud, and on the front row he hears Anna and Balthazar shout out of excitement. Castiel turns to the public, now _really_ looks at them, and then finally bows. He can hear Balthazar snort, but he decides to ignore him.

And this – _this_ – is when the boy knows that he wants to keep doing this.

This is the exact moment he understands he wants to become a professional pianist.

* * *

**Chapter one.**

The Sampson Institute for music is known as the best music school in the world. It’s located at the border of the big city; safely hidden behind large trees but still easy enough to reach by car or bus. The school is both a high school and a college, but they are both separated. The high school is at the same time a boarding school, where the teenagers that live too far away reside during the week. The college-part of the Institute doesn’t offer residence, but the students are able to rent apartments in the city or sign up for a room in the dormitory that is a fifteen minutes’ walk from the school.

It is both an honor and a privilege to attend at the school, and not _every_ student gets accepted; they have to take an exam during the summer break. There they show their talent and enthusiasm, and once the jury sees something promising in a student, they are accepted in the school. In the end, everybody who graduates here ends up high in the classical music department as soloist or conductor or whatever else there is as possibility.

The students of the university start a few days after the high school, so the halls of the school are already filled with the hundred teenagers that are going from class to class when Castiel arrives. He accidentally bumps against a few older students, mutters quick apologies to them and receives a stupid grin from one other student that looks like he could be the living representation of a Ken-doll.

As soon as he is inside, Castiel finds himself between about fifty other students; all first years. They all look very nervous and unknowing of what to expect from this coming school year. Castiel makes fists from his hands from the tension. He has to admit his heart has been much calmer during his exam in July.

For three months now Castiel lives in an apartment. From the moment he turned eighteen he received permission to leave the Wilson Orphanage, and he and Balto – Balthazar, but everybody uses this nickname to annoy him – have been chasing a place to live. In the end they have found a place with two bedrooms and an acceptable rent. The two boys have taken a job to pay for their stay, because even though their bank accounts are filled with the money they’ve saved while growing up, it’s better not to give it all away immediately.

The first of July Castiel has done the exam to show he has the stuff that is needed for this school. Without much ado they accepted him. One of the teachers has even come up to hum afterwards to announce that he’s going to request teaching him during their next meeting.

The students in find themselves in the entrance room, waiting further instructions; everybody is talking to each other, getting to know each other, making friends. _That’s_ Castiel soft spot; He isn’t able to make friends as easily as the people around him, communication, socializing… The boy often finds himself at the sidelines, listening but never giving any input of his thoughts. Even in the orphanage it has been Anna and Balto who did all the talking. In order to make Castiel talk, someone has to ask him a direct question; otherwise no words would leave his lips.

This makes Castiel just wander silently between his peers when they are called into the auditorium. He makes no effort whatsoever to sit with other people, but instead places himself at the end of an empty row. No one comes next to him, and he doesn’t really care about it.

The headmaster’s speech contains an introduction of the teachers. Castiel hears nothing new; this summer he has done tons of research about _everything_ there possibly is to know about the school, every corner and every hallway. It would surprise him to learn something he doesn’t already has memorized.

Then the classes are finally divided, not in alphabetical order but obviously randomly chosen. The first class is called forward, followed by the second one, the third, fourth, and as soon as there are only ten students left sitting in the room, Castiel hears his name been called out.

“Castiel Wilson,” the headmaster says, before staring into the crowd, searching for any reaction. Castiel stands up, and joins the teacher who is supposed to give them the tour of the school.

Wilson is not really Castiel’s family name. By lack of any further information about his biological father – except for the man’s first name – Castiel has taken the identity of the orphanage after he returned from his last foster parents. Anna and Balto have done the same thing, giving Castiel more the feeling they are siblings other than just friends.

As soon as all the students have been called forth, the teacher introduces himself as Inias Angeles, the conductor of the school’s orchestra. Castiel doesn’t play any instrument for orchestra, so this man won’t be his teacher for any lessons.

* * *

The tour hasn’t taken much time. The students look at everything rather quickly and they haven’t asked any questions. Now the whole class is currently positioned at a table in the cafeteria. Some of them brought lunch, while others order something from the kitchen.

Castiel eats his sandwich in silent, drinks calmly from his water, while he’s listening to the stories his classmates have to tell. They are a class of ten students, the smallest of them all, and it contains four pianists (Castiel himself, Lisa, Chuck and Jo), a guitarist (Sam, who apparently has a well-known brother running around here), two violinists (Ruby and Jessica), a percussionist (Benny), cellist (Kevin) and trumpeter (Meg). Much like Castiel, a few of these people are a little shy at first. It’s more Ruby, Meg, Sam, Jo, Benny and Jessica that speak most of the times. Everybody talks about their life before arriving at this school. A few of them have had a normal youth, but when Castiel hears fragments of the stories told by Jo, Sam, Ruby or Meg, he realizes he’s not the only one that hasn’t been raised in a difficult background. Though, once everybody has spoken, he is the only one who hasn’t said a word to reveal anything about his past. He sees the tall boy – Sam – look at him with a hopeful expression on his face, and he’s glad when the guy doesn’t ask him to elaborate when Castiel’s only sentence is: “I’m just Castiel.”

The first lessons can’t really be called lessons, but more introductions of the stuff they are going to learn, introductions of the students themselves, and often a little musical test to check on their current level. Even after the first hour, Castiel realizes a lot of his classmates have a better musical education due to their times at the Sampson Institute high school. They can answer things Castiel couldn’t even come up with. Castiel has only enjoyed a few music-lessons, and his lack of knowledge has been pointed out during the exam that summer. Ever since then he’s been working so hard on it with Balto (who honestly doesn’t have any clue about what he’s teaching his friend).

After two hours of solfeggio, they can say the day has ended. A few of them retreat back to the cafeteria to catch up on each other. Meg and Ruby try to convince the others to join them to the bar, and others simply go home. Castiel decides to take this free time to look for a studio with a piano.

For the students, the school has prepared hundreds of studios. Every one of them has a piano, and the bigger ones even have an organ. After checking the rest of his schedule, Castiel has discovered that that very instrument is also on it. He never even touched an organ, let alone seen it. After maybe ten minutes of searching, he finds one of those big rooms. He drops his backpack next to the piano, and makes his way to the organ. It’s so big that Castiel feels tiny next to it. It has three keyboards; two for his hands, and one for his feet. His stomach tickles when he sets himself down on the seat, and lets a little sigh escape from his lips.

When he presses a key, no sound comes out of it. Rather surprised, he takes a better look at the instrument, only to see an enormous amount of buttons. He realizes quite quickly he has no idea how to turn on this thing. He pulls back quickly, and walks back to the piano. Without taking out his books, he settles himself right in front of the keyboard, his right foot on the pedal, and practices his scales to warm up his fingers.

* * *

The rest of the week goes a little rough for Castiel. It’s obviously no longer high school, so there are no teachers chasing them behind for their homework or their presence in the classroom – figuratively speaking of course. Most of the times they have blocks of two hours, a break for one hour, and then lessons again. Around twelve they find themselves in the cafeteria on their main table, where Castiel has permanently settled himself at the corner where often no-one speaks to him – not that he minds of course.

He has seen enough other students here, heard a few names he can’t memorize, but is at the point of recognizing a few faces. Of some he hears they are talented musicians; like that one man – could be in the late twenties – with dark hair and brown eyes, who has the reputation of being the best trumpeter of the whole school. He’s two years higher than Castiel, and though Castiel can’t give him a name – except for that strange nickname ‘Crowley’ – the only thing he can say about this man is his British accent.

Another person Castiel heard several rumors about is Dean. Yes, Castiel hasn’t forgotten this guy’s name the moment he heard it. This student, the guy he bumped in to the first day, is popular with everybody, can always be found at a full table, and is loved by all the girls (and maybe a few guys as well) due to his ‘beautiful’ looks. Apart from that, Castiel knows that the guy’s a percussionist, but he’s not able to tell if he’s any good at it. From what he has heard, Dean is more into going out and hitting on girls, and Castiel cannot find any way to see how he could find even a _little_ time to practice.

Castiel’s classmates seem to fit perfectly in the category of ‘Dean’s friends’. He and Sam are often together, and they like to annoy each other all the time. Then there’s Jo, who tries to hide her massive crush on him. Lisa is the one Dean’s actually interested in, so she’s also a part of that group.

Castiel can’t explain it, but every time he sees Dean, a wave of frustration comes over him. How can it be that that man receives so much attention without even putting any effort in it? The moment he drops his books, ten people would run to him to pick them back up.

But then there’s the thing that annoys Castiel most; the way Dean looks at him. It’s like, every time he notices him, it’s for the first time. Like, _oh, he’s there too?_ Though Castiel has always kept himself on the sidelines, he has never felt more pushed into the shadows. And to make it up to that, Castiel says to himself that Dean is a terrible percussionist. It probably isn’t the truth, but it helps him to feel less excluded – strangely enough.

The lessons haven’t really started yet; the teachers are way too interested in the reasons why their new students wanted to come here, and by the time the classes are finished, not even a single tune has been played. At the end of the week, almost all the teachers have been introduced, and Castiel has enough information about his classmates to know who could be a potential friend, and who wouldn’t.

Sam Winchester is one of those potential friends. While everybody keeps on giving Castiel his privacy and alone-time, Sam is doing everything to include him in the conversations and activities they have planned, such as those evenings at the bar, or jam-sessions in the studios. It’s only after playing the piano for three hours that Castiel joins them, and he takes on his daily routine of shutting up when he’s surrounded by classmates. He has observed enough to see that Jo, with her long blond locks, and Sam, with his longish brown hair, have been friends for a few years. That thought has been confirmed when they talk about old memories of family-meetings.

Jo’s life-story has been told very fast; her father had the hobby to go hunting, along with Sam’s father. One evening, mister Harvelle didn’t come home, and that night they received a phone call from the hospital that the man had been hospitalized after a bear-attack. The man didn’t make it, and since then Jo lives alone with her mother Ellen. Though Sam’s father had been on the scene, the girl has no hard feelings for his family, and still meets up with them from time to time.

Jo and Sam are kind of like brother and sister. Sam is one year older than her.

Meg and Ruby are more like the hardcore-girls when it comes to drinking and partying. Each morning they arrive hung over, and each evening they are drunk enough to end up in bed with another person – they probably even sleep with each other sometimes, Castiel fears to admit.

So when Castiel finds himself between those two girls that first Wednesday-evening, he tries to hide how uncomfortable he feels. That fails miserably when Meg starts to show her interest in him, ‘intrigued by how mysterious he is,’ she offers as explanation. His fellow-classmates are only laughing about it, and not even ten minutes after arriving Castiel leaves the bar with a shame-red face, running back to his apartment where Balthazar is already eating his dinner. Castiel’s too shocked to even complain that Balthazar didn’t make him anything to eat. He just sits down on the couch next to his brother and both turn on the television.

Anyway, that Friday the lessons stop at four in the afternoon, and Castiel can’t find a better way to celebrate the end of the week than to practice a little more behind a piano. His first lesson last day has been great. Despite the few remarks of using the wrong fingers on the keys, the teacher’s really impressed by how fast he’s come to learn the piece given to him by e-mail in August.

“Good job, Castiel, Rachmaninov really isn’t easy to learn!” have been his words, and Castiel smiles at the memory of it.

So, while his classmates pick up their habit to go to the cafeteria doing nothing, Castiel starts to walk in the hallway, startled when Sam Winchester calls out his name.

“Hey Castiel, wait up!” the boy calls behind him, and Castiel turns around, seeing Sam run up to him holding his guitar and a few books. Castiel keeps on forgetting how tall Sam really is. He really has to look up to even see his face, and Castiel himself has always kind of been tall himself. Well, next to Sam he feels smaller than before.

“You going to practice as well?” Sam asks, causing Castiel to lower his eyes to the guitar safely put in the case. Then he nods, trying to smile convincingly. Sam’s lips curl up as well, and both start walking again, going up the stairs to get to the next floor.

“What a week, right?” Sam asks as a way to start up a conversation between the two. Okay, so it is kind of a lame conversation-starter, but Castiel has to give Sam points for even trying. To be honest, Castiel wouldn’t even know how to start a conversation at all.

“The week was indeed very special,” Castiel stated, not really knowing if he means it in a positive way or more in a negative one. He’s happy he can finally do something with his passion, but if it’s up to him the lessons would’ve already started this week instead of all the time-wasting that has happened these past five days. Despite that, he does rather enjoy the small amount of students there are in his class. During high school the classes were always very big, and the only two people Castiel really talked to were Balthazar and Anna, so it’s kind of a relieve that he’s no longer surrounded by such a large group.

“Our class is nice,” Sam continues, “I think everybody will get along.”

They passed by studio after studio, all of them taken. At the end of the hall, Castiel sees a door open, and Castiel is unsure of what is appropriate here; does he offer the studio to Sam or does he take it himself? He _really_ wants to practice his pieces from the summer.

Only after he sees that Sam is watching him, he makes out that the student has asked him a question. He shakes his head with a questioning look, wordlessly explaining that he hasn’t heard, and Sam only snorts lightly, giving him a small smile. He then leans against the wall in front of the studio, not removing his eyes from Castiel.

“I said: You don’t really talk that much, do you?” he repeats. It was direct and the complete truth, but it does sting a little bit every time Castiel hears something like that said to him.

“I-“ he starts, but he doesn’t know how to answer something like that. _I don’t easily make friends? I can be really mean without really realizing it? I come off as an insensitive person?_ No, best thing to do is to keep quiet. He turns his eyes down to the floor and takes a deep breath to calm down his nerves. Then both look at the open studio.

It’s a tiny little room with one window. As usual, the heating is on its maximum level and the walls are made sound proof. At the end of the room there’s a table and a chair, and in the middle there’s a little standing piano. Not the best thing Castiel could play on, but it’s acceptable.

“You or me?” Castiel asks, silently hoping that Sam moves along, continuing his search. The tall man only shrugs.

“You show me what you can do on that piano and I’ll continue looking?” he proposes, smiling again at Castiel. The pianist doesn’t really know what takes him over when he smiles back, but he bares his teeth in the process, making this one of these rare _big smiles_ he never gives anybody. He walks in, dropping his bag on the table, and sits down in front of the piano. Sam follows him inside, sitting down on the other chair at the table, dropping his guitar next to Castiel’s bag.

“I haven’t really played this piece for that long, so it’s not really optimal,” Castiel tells, not really sure if he should actually play. Sam shrugs again, rolling his eyes and smiling once more.

“Doesn’t matter dude, everybody has to starts somewhere with a piece, right?”

And he’s right indeed, so Castiel allows the curious glance he receives from Sam when the man shuffles the chair right next to him, and sits back. Castiel lifts his hand, and Sam’s eyes follow the movement as he puts them above the keys of the piano. Castiel doesn’t react at first, because something seems to be stopping him. It’s probably Sam, who now has his cellphone in his hand and is quickly texting a message to someone.

“My brother,” Sam says, “wants to know where I am. When you’re done I’ll go.”

Castiel nods and turns back to the piano, ignoring that uneasy feeling that comes when he imagines _another_ person sitting in this small room. A person he doesn’t even _know_.

Sam seems to catch the hesitation, and he raises his hands.

“Don’t worry, my brother really goes along with everybody,” Sam says. “I’m sure you’ll like him.” Once again he was smiling and he finally puts the mobile back in his pocket. Castiel takes a deep breath, taking the silence as a queue to start. He decides not to react to Sam’s promise that he and his brother would get along, because he knows that he shouldn’t overthink this. He shakes his head to bring himself back to reality, because Sam expects a song played by Castiel, and he should better begin before this brother arrives. His fingers reach out; going for the heavy octaves he has to play. His eyes are stuck on the sheet music he put on the stand, even though he doesn’t need to read them anymore.

And he starts.

_La_

_Sol_

_Do_.

The notes are heavy, so deep, that the effect is spectacular. He can almost feel Sam shift in his chair. The notes are followed by the quiet chords Castiel has forced into his fingers that first week he got the sheets.

Then, eventually, he isn’t even thinking about what he’s playing. The notes just come out automatically, and all he has to do is show the emotion he feels there should be. So he starts to think about the past week, about how hard Sam is trying to make Castiel fit in with the crowd without earning any results. How Meg obviously wants to share a bed with Castiel, and not just sleep together, and plainly tells him of her desires without any shame. He thinks about how red his face was after that, and about how he practically ran away after this confession because he decided he had enough contact with people for the day. He thinks about the teachers asking each day _why_ they chose to study for music. And to his utter surprise, he’s thinking about someone he’s sure he doesn’t even like.

The heavy and angry chords come out while he thinks of this Dean-guy he actually never even met, and he thinks about how frustrated he is over the fact that this guy doesn’t even put an effort in trying to make friends. Over how easy it is for him to get everybody’s sympathy by just smiling at them.

Castiel’s fingers slam the keys as he tries to deny his jealousy. He _isn’t_ jealous, and especially not at Dean. That annoying, irritating student from only one year higher than him, and yet four years older than Castiel. He’s not jealous at how people talk about him. At how girls seem to fall for him and all he needs to do is just to be there. At the ‘so-called’ talent he owns for every possible percussion-instrument.

He. Is. Not. Jealous.

Or is he?

With Castiel’s hesitation, he can feel how the chords soften as well, until finally the last chord is played and there’s barely any sound coming from the piano.

It takes a while for him to realize that the piece is over, and his hears surprisingly lowers its speed. His fingers are shaking above the keys, and his longs long for the air he has hold back. With an effort he puts his hands down on his legs to stop the shaking, and then he remembers Sam.

Oh, no, he probably played terribly.

Castiel finds the courage to look at the man next to him, trying to see his reaction on the piece. Sam’s large eyes and open mouth can be both bad news and good news, and it makes Castiel feel uncomfortable. Okay, it was horrible, that he now knew for sure.

 _How did he even get into this school_?

“That… was…” Sam can’t finish, but shakes his head in disbelief, taking a deep breath. Castiel frowns, ignoring how his face colors red from shame.

“I haven’t got the piece for that long, it’s not ready yet,” Castiel defends, repeating his previous explanation. Sam only shakes his head again.

“How…?” he starts again, but a knock on the door stops his sentence. Right after that, the door swings open, and Castiel figures it’s Sam’s brother. Yet, he can’t look up, despite his curiosity as to who is the other Winchester.

“Woa, okay, for a minute I thought you gained supernatural piano-abilities in your first week, Sammy,” the brother says, and that voice sounds kind of familiar. Castiel starts to look up, but before he can confirm anything, Sam does it for him.

“Shut up, Dean,” he mutters, standing up to get his guitar. Finally, Castiel looks at the boy who walked into the studio without closing the door behind him – obviously planning on leaving immediately. Castiel looks at his short light-brown hair, going up in neat spikes, and he sees his green eyes that finally meet his. Dean looks impressed, and Castiel doesn’t know how to react. This guy gets on his nerves, and he can’t even say why since they never even talked.

“Castiel, this is my brother Dean,” Sam says, pointing at his brother. “I’m sure you heard of him?” At that, Dean smirks, looking really sure of himself as he smiles a toothy smile.

All Castiel does is nod, without making any effort of looking friendly.

“Man, I was listening against the door,” Dean starts, “you really must have been angry at someone to put _that_ much feeling in a piece, right?”

 _Yeah, I was actually thinking about your stupid face and your stupid popularity_ , Castiel thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut. He shrugs, earning him a lifted eyebrow from Dean. Then there’s an uncomfortable silence, which Sam finally breaks after a little moment. Without trying to be subtle he looks at his wristwatch, and then at his brother.

“We should go now, right Dean?” he says, picking up his guitar case again. He starts walking to the door where Dean was still standing. “It was a real pleasure hearing you play, Castiel, you really are talented, and I will let you practice now. I’ll see you Monday!”

And then he pulls at Dean’s arm, but that doesn’t stop the staring-contest his brother and Castiel have. Eventually, Sam’s pulling gets them out of it, and Dean gets yanked back, losing his ground for a moment. Once he’s back on his two feet, he waves at Castiel shortly, grinning.

“Bye Cas,” he says then before following his brother back into the hallway. Castiel silently growls as he watches the door closing, muttering a small ‘My name is Castiel’ before turning back to the piano. Then, after ten minutes of just staring ahead, he gets back to the piano, continuing his practice on the Rachmaninov-piece, once again getting his source of emotion from his anger towards Dean.

* * *

During the evening-hours of the weekend Castiel find himself behind the bar, filling other people’s beer glasses and serving drunkards and party-animals who celebrate the beginning of the school year. Castiel isn’t the kind of bartender one could really talk to; he doesn’t give good advice, so he just keeps his mouth shut. This also means he doesn’t get a tip – except from that weird dude who keeps on eying him appreciatively, which creeps Castiel out to be honest.

His boss, Abby Addon, is a bossy redhead with lips as red as blood. She has enough men who would like to kiss her feet, and she seems to bask in that knowledge. When Castiel applied for this job, she hesitated for long before eventually hiring him because no-one else would come along anyway. Castiel can fill a glass with beer without getting too much foam, he can make cocktails, knows stuff about alcohol, and obviously he’s more use than one would think. The only thing that almost stopped Abby was his inability to start conversations with people. His asocial behavior can be a mayor turn-off for the customers and fellow bartenders, but – and the people from the orphanage often agreed to this – she keeps on saying that he makes up for it with his looks. Castiel can’t see why, as he appears tired all the time, having giant bags under his blue eyes. His hair is always ruffled and untamable, despite how many times he combs through it, and despite him shaving every morning, he always has facial hair. But he doesn’t question her motives at all, because he’s happy he even _has_ a job.

In front of him sits Balthazar, who wants to spend his Sunday-evening with his brother. He’s ordered a cocktail, and is at this point still drinking from it, despite it being an hour ago since he ordered it. At first the conversations were about Castiel’s first week at school, how the things went, what he didn’t like, if he made any new friends. Castiel knows Balthazar doesn’t just ask to have a conversation. The man just wants to know if Castiel has even been _trying_ to make friends this week.

For some reason they ended up with the topic ‘Dean’, and while Castiel is cleaning up the beer that has been knocked out of a glass by a drunken teenager. He rubs the bar with harsh movements, making an angry face as he works. Balthazar seems to find it funny, and he starts laughing while Castiel explains everything that irritates him about this _Dean Winchester_. Castiel stops talking to look at his brother in confusion.

“Is something funny?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. Balthazar rolls his eyes, shuffling closer to his brother as if trying to whisper something to it. Castiel leans forward as well, feeling Balthazar’s breath against his ear.

“You sound like a bloody teenage girl!” Balthazar shouts in his ear, and Castiel pulls back in surprise, rubbing his ear annoyingly. “Stop being so ridiculous Cassie, it’s almost as if you actually have a crush on this guy you never even spoken to!”

“Shut up, Balthazar,” Castiel mutters, crossing his arms. Balthazar only laughs even harder, shaking his head.

“Seriously, brother, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you actually _like_ this guy!” he counters. He wraps his arms around his body and looks fake-longingly up at the ceiling. “Oh no, there’s this popular boy at my school and all the girls love him, but I want to be the only one who loves him,” he says in an annoying high-pitched voice. Then he gets a wet towel thrown in his face by Castiel, and the bartender turns away.

“You’re not funny, Balthazar,” Castiel says while cleaning the glasses with a new towel. Further away he can see Abby stock some wine-bottles on the shelf, and her face is amused as well. Castiel is glad she doesn’t meddle in this conversation.

“Come on, Cassie, relax a little bit, don’t be so bitter,” Balthazar then says, sounding serious again. “If you do some effort, maybe you’ll find you’ll befriend this guy without any problem.”

Castiel knows Balthazar is right, but it’s just so difficult for him to start talking to strangers. He’s tried in the past, but that made him realize he’s only capable of saying mean things without even realizing it. He can’t understand other people’s jokes, doesn’t get the references and sarcasm is a whole other story for him. He can’t show emotions, and so far it hasn’t given him trouble, so why now all of the sudden? Why is he bothered that he can’t make friends the moment he meets this charismatic Dean Winchester?

When Castiel doesn’t react, Balthazar continues, “How long ago was it since you had a girlfriend?” he asks. “Or hell, since you’ve at least even been attracted to someone?”

This question didn’t need an answer, because both knew what the truth was. It was only meant to touch Castiel, to make him realize that this wasn’t okay. And it was working, because Castiel couldn’t even answer. He never had any girlfriend, and never really had a crush on somebody either. He was this weird person who didn’t have any sexual fantasies in bed. This weird guy who doesn’t even know what to do with Meg running after him like a hungry wolf.

“Right, just think about that for a while, Castiel,” Balthazar said, finishing his drink and then getting off the stool. Then he grabs his jacket and leaves the bar without saying anything else. With Balthazar’s departure, the last customer has left, and that’s reason enough for Abby to close down for the night. They turn around the ‘open’-sign, and clean up the place before she sends him home.

* * *

Solfeggio is even harder than Castiel would’ve thought. The first lesson on the second week starts as soon as the last student sits down, and the teacher now looks strict, sitting next to his piano with an unimpressed expression on his face.

“Take your book, we’ll start with rhythmically analyzing the first lesson, and we’ll go through the whole thing,” he says. “This lesson is your assignment for next week as well, and I expect you to do it without any mistakes.”

The four hours of solfeggio are filled with the teacher ticking his pencil against the table until they could all follow the lesson rhythmically. Then they start singing, and that’s when it gets really difficult.

Finally, after two hours cursing the notes in front of him, Castiel can leave the class for his first lesson in organ. He’s a little nervous about that, but only because he really wants to learn this instrument as well. The teacher is friendly, though, and she introduces him to the buttons and pedals from the instrument, showing him how it works with the different positions there are with the buttons. Then he gets his first piece, and he’s free to go.

Lunch is still half an hour away, and Castiel doesn’t want to sit in the cafeteria all by himself, so he starts wandering around the hallway, passing the studios without really searching for anything. Without realizing, he ends up in the basement, where the percussionists and brass-instruments practice. He knows the piano’s here are terrible, so he should just go back up. It’s only five minutes before lunch, and he still has to put away his books. He walks forward to get back to the stairs, and as soon as he’s up, he’s standing next to the concert-room. It’s a large room, build for performances made by the school. He knows the orchestra also practices in here every Wednesday after lunch, which is why he’s surprised there’s someone playing there at that moment. Without really thinking about it, Castiel enters the room, identifying the instrument currently playing as a marimba. The piece doesn’t sound all that easy at all, so the player must be good. To his frustration, the grand piano is open, and the musician’s face is hidden behind it, so Castiel has to get closer to see who it is. He goes to sit in one of the chairs, trying to keep his mouth from falling open when he recognizes the musician.

Okay, so Dean _is_ an excellent percussionist.

Damn it.

The way Dean is holding the sticks as if they’re part of his hands, getting out a sound that gets better by the second. Castiel gets real quiet at he watches Dean, sees how his face is filled with concentration, but also with passion. His eyes are closed, he’s biting his lower lip. Castiel has never ever seen anything like this before, and immediately he has to admit that the gossips about Dean’s great talent aren’t exaggerated.

How could someone so young show so much experience in something?

Castiel knows the piece; it’s a toccata by Bach, played by organ and usually used in amateur horror-movies. Every organ-player has played this song in their life, but hearing it on a Marimba was a whole other thing.

Without realizing it, Castiel is sitting at the edge of his chair, his head resting on his hands as he observes Dean carefully. He sees how Dean finishes the song, eyes still closed as he drops his hands again, keeping his hold on the sticks. This, Castiel decides, is the best time for him to just leave the room. Without making any noise, he gets up from his seat, and sneaks back to the door, making his way out. As soon as he’s on the hallway, he stands still, unsure of whether he should be irritated again. He’s been telling himself that Dean was a terrible musician all this time, but now – of course – it turns out that he’s actually kind of amazing in what he does.

Castiel doesn’t feel jealousy anymore all of the sudden, but he finds that he’s rather curious on how Dean _does_ it. How does he combine school with having a social life? How does he keep the balance? With Castiel, there’s no time for that all; everything is about the piano, and nothing else.

When Castiel finally finds himself in the cafeteria, a few of his fellow classmates are already at the table. He recognizes Lisa, Chuck and Sam. Castiel figures that the others are still on their way or are eating outside now that there’s still beautiful weather.

Castiel doesn’t join the conversation the three of them are having, but lets his mind wander far away. The cafeteria is quite empty actually. Castiel can see the cafeteria-lady reading a book at her post, causing her to nearly forget that there’s a student standing next to her to make an order.

Castiel takes small bites of his mac and cheese, and finally listens to the conversation that is happening next to him. Yet, all he can hear is Chuck and Lisa both saying that they have piano-class and need to leave, so there’s not much for him to learn in it. Sam remains in his seat, and it doesn’t look as if he’s going to say something. His eyes are focused on the screen of his phone, and his fingers are quickly typing up a text. As soon as the message is sent, Sam looks up, smiling truthfully at Castiel.

“So how’s your day going?” he asks, and his interest is genuine. Castiel only coughs a little, scraping his throat clean and putting down his fork.

 _Well, I heard your brother play the marimba today and I’m not exactly sure how he’s a real person_ , Castiel thinks, but luckily, it stays with thinking.

“I’m very well,” he says instead. “I might say solfeggio was quite difficult to be honest, but it was endurable.” His eyes finally meet Sam’s, but it doesn’t take long before he lowers them again. Eye-contact isn’t really Castiel’s strong suit. “Organ was interesting actually. I finally received my first pieces.”

Castiel scratches his hair as he sums up everything he can think of. Sam nods, adds his own input, and it turns out they find themselves actually _talking_. Castiel enjoys it, speaks of whatever he can think of, but they are disturbed by Sam’s cellphone. Sam holds up a finger to him to hold the conversation for a moment, and puts the phone against his ear.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, not sounding panicked in the least. After a little silence he rolls his eyes, shaking his head a little to get the hair out of his eyes. “In the cafeteria.” Another silence, and Castiel continues eating from his now-cold food. His eyes wander outside, and he sees two students sitting in the grass, laughing and teasing each other. Castiel keeps on observing them; they are two boys, a little bit _nerds_ in Castiel’s opinion. One of them is holding up a book and is pointing at things written inside, and then the other one pulls it out of his hands and starts kissing him on the lips. Castiel’s eyes immediately go large, seeing these two guys kiss each other so publicly without even fearing the reaction of others.

“Okay, see you soon,” Sam then says, and that’s enough for Castiel to turn his head again, trying to forget about the two guys practically making out on the grass.

“So, what were we talking about?” Sam asks, and Castiel finds himself speechless as he finds himself looking at the two guys again. Sam then laughs at Castiel’s reaction. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who think being gay is a sin?”

“No, no of course not!” Castel defends himself. “It’s just, they’re so open about it. I’ve never seen it before to be honest.”

Sam only shrugs at that, glancing one last look at his cellphone before dropping it on the table.

“Listen, I couldn’t really tell you last Friday, but that piece you played was just magnificent!” Sam says, smiling at Castiel who turns red at the cheeks again. “How many hours a day do you practice?”

“It depends on the day,” Castiel simply answers. “Every moment I’m free I spend it behind the piano. There’s not much else that I do.” That last part he said a little shamefully, turning his head away to look at the lunch lady, where, apparently, Sam’s brother is standing. Castiel immediately understands who Sam has been calling to when Dean turns away after paying his lunch and walking closer to them– and giving a passing girl one of his typical smiles. Then he pulls back the chair in front of Castiel and drops down without saying anything, putting a platter with a hamburger on it in front of them both. He groans as his head is thrown back, and then he’s throwing his arms in the air and groans even louder. It takes a moment for Castiel to understand that the man’s stretching his limbs.

“Man, I’m beat,” Dean mutters before unpacking his hamburger and looking at it longingly. “Finally, food!” Then he takes a big bite, and starts chewing while moaning over his lunch. Sam only rolls his eyes again, throwing some sort of bitch face in Dean’s direction.

“You really should stop eating all that junk food,” Sam snaps at his brother, but it only earns him an elbow in his ribs. He makes a painful sound and turns away again. While he rubs his painful spot, he turns to Castiel again, picking up their conversation again.

“So do you even give yourself some free time to just relax?” Sam asks. “You came with us at the bar once, why not come again?”

Castiel’s eyes remain focused on Dean’s hamburger, which keeps on getting smaller with every bite Dean takes.

“It’s not that simple,” Castiel then finally explains, realizing he’s got nothing to lose by telling Sam _why_ he’s uncomfortable at the bar. Sam can be trusted, and Dean wouldn’t really care. “I don’t make friends that easily; I can be mean without even knowing it, and sometimes people simply don’t like me.”

Dean was now finished, and he’s licking his fingers as his throat makes a sound that means he’s asking for attention. Sam rolls his eyes again, but they both look at the percussionist.

“Well, it seems like there needs to be a little change in that now, doesn’t it?” Dean asks. “Enjoy the college-life, Cas! Go out, skip school!”

Is Dean joking? The year has barely started and this guy’s suggesting he just doesn’t come to class?

“Shut up, Dean, there are other ways to enjoy being a student than _skipping school_ ,” Sam throws back. Dean only shrugs, picking up some fries and once again openly enjoying them. “It’s okay to hang out with us, Castiel,” Sam then offers. “We can help you with your problem if you like?”

“Wouldn’t I just be annoying?” Castiel asks before even thinking about accepting Sam’s offer, but before Sam can answer, Dean grinningly beats him to it.

“Don’t worry, Cas! We’ll teach you how to combine school with sleep and a social life,” he says before picking up another fry. Then Castiel decides, forgetting any frustration he has towards Dean; because if the guy is proposing to help him, who is he to decline?

“In that case, I would love to hang out with you,” Castiel finally says, surprised of the self-assured sound his voice makes .But as he sees the two brothers grin at him, he’s wondering whether or not he’s making the right choice here.

* * *

Chapter 2

Days turn into weeks, classes come and go… Castiel finds that the time he planned on spending on the piano are instead used to practice his rhythmical reading of the lessons the teacher give them. Every Monday he starts with the two hour long solfeggio, where he silently suffers through the readings and singing. Then he’s luckily blessed with one free hour, which he mostly spends on practicing for his singing-classes. After lunch, there’s music-history, followed by the actual singing-classes he previously practiced for.

The Tuesdays he started with music theory, which is surprisingly difficult for Castiel seeing his limited musical education. After having that class for one hour and a half, there’s a thirty-minute break he has before his organ-classes begin. In the days that he finds a free studio, he practices the massive instrument, warming up his fingers before going to the actual class. At lunch, he’s free until two in the afternoon, where he has composition.

Now, for the last month, the teacher that organizes the ensemble-course has been absent due to sickness, causing the classes to have been dismissed until further notice. Now, as Castiel walks down the hallway, getting ready to head back home, he finds Sam motioning for him, telling him to get closer. Castiel walks his way, question as to why everybody’s here ready on the tip of his tongue, but Sam beats him to it.

“Mrs. Barnes is back, we’ll get to choose our ensemble-groups today,” Sam explains. Castiel doesn’t say anything, but simply follows his friend to the auditorium, where half of the seats were already taken. Ten minutes later everybody is seated, and a woman in front of the room is walking on the stage, looking at everybody with a strange expression. Castiel could swear she looks playful, as if she’s teasing them all.

Then she starts explaining what they are supposed to do in this class; every group is supposed to master three pieces and present them at the end of December. She suggests that the guitarists are limited and that they should group up together. She makes suggestions for groups, but Castiel has already stopped listening, because he can see Lisa and Dean sitting a little further away, whispering in each other’s ears and silently laughing about something.

When she puts a few sheets of papers on the table, students start to get up, walking to the front of the room and putting their names on a paper. Castiel just keeps sitting for a moment, looking quite surprised by the sudden action.

He can see Sam converse with other guitarists, writing down his name along with theirs as he keeps on talking to them. Lisa and Jessica are also standing together, pointing at the paper and giggling like typical girls. It looks like everybody from the class is teaming up with somebody and Castiel ends up alone again.

Castiel can see how half of the group is already going back outside, making their leave. He can now see the remaining students, but he doesn’t dare walking up to them, so he just stands up, walks closer, and remains standing there, hoping that somebody would come to him.

In the corner of his eye he can spot Dean talking with some people. He’s making heavy movements with his hands, trying to make his point, and the others listen. Then, finally, he shakes his head, waves lightly and walks away. As soon as he sees Castiel, he comes to him, putting his hands in his pockets and sighing loudly.

“Man, they can come up with the strangest combination, I tell you that,” Dean mutters, shaking his head and laughing a little bit. Castiel doesn’t really get it, but doesn’t ask. “I mean, a marimba with a harpist and a cellist? That’s just wrong!”

Then he shakes his head again, breathing one last unconvincing laugh and putting his hand against his chin. “Besides, playing in a group too large always causes trouble.”

Castiel can understand that; the more people there are, the less time they can find where everybody is free. Groups of three could be the maximum, in his opinion, but more than that could indeed cause for trouble, as Dean put it.

“So, I guess you’re not in a team yet?” Castiel asks, hopefully. Maybe he wouldn’t walk up to other students, but with Dean he knows he can ask, because he knows this guy a little bit more now.

“Yeah, actually I am,” Dean says, chuckling again. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice the disappointed look Castiel is showing, because that would be awkward. But then, Dean smiles at him, grabbing his arm. “I’m demanding you as my teammate,” he says, pulling Castiel with him to the table where only a few other students are standing. Castiel just goes with it, following Dean with a warm feeling inside knowing that Dean wants to team up with him.

Dean picks up the pen as soon as the group before them leaves, and writes down their names – Castiel has to correct Dean when he writes ‘Casteel’ instead of ‘Castiel’. Then Mrs. Barnes comes to stand next to them, grinning and crossing her arms as she looks at Dean.

“What’s this Winchester? No longer in your typical five-people group?” she asks, and if Castiel didn’t know any better, he would say she was actually flirting with him. Dean grins at her as well, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezing him.

“Ah, well you know, two’s company, five is a crowd!” he says. Mrs. Barnes only laughs again, shaking her head.

“I don’t think that expression was correct,” Castiel says to Dean, and the teacher hears it. It makes her laugh even more, and Dean chuckles as well.

“Okay wise-guy, let’s get out of here!” he says, pulling Castiel away from the table and in the direction of the door. They can hear Mrs. Barnes yell after them.

“He’s a real keeper, Dean!”

Castiel only blushes a little, and Dean shakes his head, muttering something about _crazy women_ before getting out of the auditorium.


	6. Avengers AU

Dean always knew that John Winchester hadn’t been Mary’s first real love. Heck, the whole world knew it, for crying out loud. It had been released in the press back in the day – _Captain America sacrifices life to save America – His lover Mary Campbell is left in tears at his death_. Dean wasn’t even alive when it happened. The _idea_ of him hadn’t even occurred to his parents back then.

All he knows is that, when his parents _did_ finally get together, it had been years after Captain Castiel Novak had died while taking a plane down that was headed straight to New York. And even more years after that his mother finally got pregnant with him – making her forty-two years old when he was born – which was considered old back in the day. The thing is, they _did_ try to conceive earlier, but after a while it didn’t even seem likely anymore that she would get pregnant until, surprise, she was back in 1965, giving birth to him on January 24th 1966.

Which, well, makes him kind of old himself already. It’s 2005, he’s just reached the age of thirty nine, and the only long-term relationship he’s ever had so far was with his PA, Cassie Robinson, who, eventually, decided she couldn’t take his self-destroying urges. At least, that’s what she said when she ended things, agreeing to remain CEO of his company but practically resigning herself as his girlfriend. At least Dean could understand it. Sure, he had been thinking about marrying her, and had even for a moment considered that maybe he wouldn’t be such a terrible father and could at least try to think about children. How typical was it that, right when he figured that he kind of liked the idea, she literally shut the door in his face, not only making him mourn his past relationship but also his new dream of having little ones running around in one of his big houses.

But that’s okay, he’s managed to distract himself with countless of one-night stands, like he used to back before he was dating Cassie in the first place. It had been a good way to live, though it was bad publicity. At least, that’s what Bobby had told him back when _he_ was the CEO of Winchester Industries, before he retired from the job and Cassie took it over from him.

Dean makes himself go to his parents’ graves every week at least; it’s a tradition that has only been broken once when he’d been stuck in a cave in Afghanistan for a few months with the order to build his most successful racket from that time, and his parents couldn’t really hold that against him.

Right now, Dean finds himself in front of the two graves. His parents are buried right next to each other, but they had insisted on being buried next to Castiel Novak’s empty grave. Empty because the body had never been found. Dean avoids that grave most of the time, mostly because he knows his parents loved the guy very much back in the day. Enough even to drive his father into searching every part of that ocean after Mary died in that fire. Of course, he’d never found him. What was there to find, by now? It was so many years ago, they should only find bones – which Dean is sure there would be a lot of in the damn sea.

“Heya, mom, dad,” Dean greets his parents as usual, and he lowers down the bouquets of flowers that he brought with him. It’s kind of cold outside, but Dean doesn’t really care. Behind him, Garth is waiting for him to finish up, keeping his distance like Dean requested.

“Here I am, again,” Dean continues hesitantly, for once not really sure what he could say. This last week hadn’t been anything more than tinkering on his suit and once again improving the Arc Reactor to make it even more powerful. His hand automatically reaches for the device in his chest, and he feels the hard surface through his jacket. “I just installed some trackers in my arm that are connected with the suit, so now the thing could just come to me in case of an emergency. Chevy is positive that the suit will be flight secure tomorrow, but you know me, I’m kind of impatient.”

Dean chuckles a little bit and then looks down. He goes to hide his hands inside his pockets and then swallows before continuing to speak.

“Sam still hasn’t, you know, _snapped_ , which is good,” Dean then says, thinking back of his brother at home. The guy had just returned from a meeting in Switzerland, so he’s struggling with a little bit of a jetlag, making him unable to join him without having the risk of _hulking out_ , as they say.

Like always, his eye travel to the side, resting shortly on Castiel Novak’s grave next to his parents. Dean swallows hard, because it’s _that_ time of the year again.

“We set out another search for him, like you asked. We’re still not giving up.” His hand passes over his face and he sniffs his nose when he feels the cold finally getting to him. It’s February, and it’s cold, and Dean should really return home before he gets sick. “I’m still not sure if we’re going to find him, of course, but like you said, Dad, it’s worth the try.”

After that, Dean lowers his head in a small goodbye before he turns around again, walking towards Garth patiently waiting for him. He nods at his small and skinny bodyguard – how did that guy even get the job in the first place? – and then he gets behind the steering wheel of his beloved Impala – to whom he named his beloved AI and assistant after.

Once he’s back home, he allows Garth to take an early leave. He’s in his house, with multiple versions of his suit available, and an indestructible guy snoozing off in the other bedroom. He can assure that he’s pretty safe in there. Garth nods and goes to the parking lot to retrieve his car, and after making his daily phone call with Cassie to check if the company hasn’t fallen apart today, Dean turns towards his workplace to do some more tinkering on the newest suit.

Sam gets annoyed by the many amount of suits that Dean has made this last year. Dean can understand – it’s his way of coping with being alone again after a relationship that lasted one year and six months. That, of course along with the many random hookups he’s been having with some lovely ladies once or twice in a week.

When, on his way to the workplace, Dean checks on Sam in his bedroom, he finds his brother fast asleep, having apparently been too tired to even change into his sleeping outfit. Dean chuckles again lightly and moves forward to get his brother undressed enough to at least sleep comfortably. The guy struggles a little bit, but eventually he surrenders, calling out a little ‘ _Thank you, Dean’_ before turning in his sleep. Dean rolls his eyes and throws the cover over him so he wouldn’t get cold, and then he gets out of the room.

“Big baby,” Dean mutters out fondly before closing the door behind him. Then he passes his own bedroom in favor of getting down the stairs and finding his trusted workplace. “Good afternoon, Chevy!” Dean calls out in a greeting to his system. The familiar voice of his program always sounds like music to his ears.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester,” she tells him in her dry way of her, obviously still refusing to drop the Mr.-crap he’s told her to quit with. So she’s rebellious, he can live with that.

“Status report on Mark forty two?” Dean asks while activating the screen of his computer and reading the progress of his suit before Chevy can even answer. Paint job is complete, every piece checked and synced with the trackers he installed in his arm. Let’s get this show on the road, he thinks. After Chevy is done summing up what Dean already knows, he comes to stand on the little stage in front of his past suits.

“Okay, baby, let’s get this sweetheart checked out,” Dean says, performing the necessary sequence with his hands to activate the sensors installed inside of him. There’s a faint glow coming up from inside his arms, which means it works. Then he reaches out his arm, and waits for the gauntlet to arrive.

He’s closed his eyes in order to be surprised, which he absolutely is when the piece of the suit closes itself around his hand and spreading itself all over his arm until it’s reached his shoulder. Another smile forms on his face, and there’s even a triumphant laugh that gets out of him. After the arm, his left leg comes, quickly followed by the chest piece and the other arm.

“Chevy, could you- please not so hard,” Dean calls out when the air gets pushed out of him as soon as the chest piece wraps itself around him. When the part that covers his crotch slams in place, he doubles forward with a groan of pain.

“Are you on some kind of revenge-mission?” Dean asks breathily, seeing the last two parts coming his way, one covering his other leg, and the other going for his face. Okay, no, that won’t be happening. Quickly enough, Dean reaches out his hand to grab it before it falls in place, and gently installs it where it’s supposed to be.

After a few seconds, the screen activates and Chevy gets through his comm-link.

“Hello, sir,” she greets him in her usual dry way.

“Hey baby,” Dean returns. “What was that about?”

“Apologies, sir, there was an incoming call. Do you want me to pass it through?”

Dean hesitates for a moment. Who-ever might be calling, probably wants something from him again. He’s tired of being needed like that all the time – they want his expertise, they want another one of his inventions, they want a signature… it’s always the same.

“Who is it?” Dean asks wearily, seeing the call appear on the screen inside the helmet, and seeing the typical SHIELD-name where the contact’s name should be. Damn it, they never could leave him alone, could they.

“Just ignore it,” Dean tells her, and the call disappears from his display, instead making his surroundings clear again. “Let’s take her for a flight, shall we?”

“Sir, the suit is not flight ready-“ Chevy talks back, just like Dean expected her to. He smirks from inside the helmet and shakes his head.

“Tuh-tuh-tuh, you know my groove by now, baby!” Dean corrects her with a fake layer of disappointment in his voice. Chevy doesn’t answer when she knows she’s defeated, but instead she brings him a path that is cleared for takeoff, and like usual Dean starts up the thrusters, and he’s on his way out of the building.

The flight is uneventful, really. Just like he’s suspected it goes without any glitch, and he’s been spotted by a group of kids, too, making him go down for a few minutes to hand them signatures after they wave at him excitedly. Ah, he may not look like it, but he loves kids.

When the next phone call happens, he’s flying above the water with the fingers of his suit touching down through the lake.

“Sir, your brother is calling, shall I pass him through?” Chevy asks politely in that same dry way she always does. Dean sees a picture of Sam appear on the display which confirms what she says, and he rolls his eyes.

“The giant is supposed to be sleeping off his jetlag,” he mutters out. Then he goes up again to avoid hitting a tourist-boat. They all wave at him when he passes. “Fine, get him through.”

Chevy confirmes the command, and then Sam’s voice sounds clearly through his helmet.

“ _Dean? Where the hell are you?”_ Sam asks with a sleepy voice, which isn’t really a surprise. “ _Oh, are you flying? Could you please stay put so that there isn’t so much wind? I can barely hear a thing!”_

Dean snorts.

“Dude, I haven’t even said anything,” Dean throws back, but he stops moving forward anyway, just keeping up in the air while that very same boat from before passes through under him. The people keep on waving, and this time he waves back.

“ _Oh,”_ Sam responds as if he’s really surprised. “ _Anyway, SHIELD called, they found him.”_

“Found who?” Dean asks, because his brother never really gets to the point of being specific. Typical…

“ _Let’s see, who have we been searching for ever since before we were even born?”_ Sam retorts sarcastically, and that moment, it clicks. They found _him_. The guy who has an empty grave next to his mother’s. The guy he never believed they could find.

“It’s about time,” Dean mutters out. He leans forward so he can move again, making his way to the high building in New York. Somehow, his heart starts beating faster at the idea that, after all these years, they finally found him. He doesn’t even know why, since he couldn’t care less about the guy. His father wanted to find him, because the two were friends once. Dean, on the other hand, only gets reminded each time that, had this guy still been alive, he and Sam wouldn’t even have been born. No, he doesn’t really want to see him, but since it was _his_ team that found the guy he should better make an appearance.

When he arrives at the landing spot on the building, he allows the pieces to come off by the robots that he build especially for this cause. The parts that detach themselves from him are send back to his workshop, and when Dean gets through the door back inside the living room he finds his brother sitting there on the couch with the screen in front of him.

“What’s the news?” Dean asks. Before he joins his brother he first makes his way to the refrigerator to get another bottle of beer, but when his hand touches it, he quickly changes his mind, instead grabbing a can of soda. After closing the refrigerator, Dean moves forward to join his brother. He might as well get the current status on the progress before he makes his way through there.

“He’s surprisingly alive,” Sam answers dryly. His hand swipes away a folder he had open in front of him. In place, a large picture of the man appears on the screen. Dean deliberately looks away from that familiar image.

“Anything more?” he asks. He lifts the can up to his lips to take a large sip from it. Sam eyes him wearily from the corner of his eyes.

“Dude, he was identified, like, an hour ago! What much else could they have?” his brother counters in annoyance. Dean just shrugs lightly and lifts his can again.

“Ah, well, guess I’ll see for myself, then,” Dean says. After finishing the soda, he crushes the metallic can until it’s just a little mashed up circle, and with a practiced throw he manages to get it inside the trashcan a little further away.

“Dude! It’s more than twenty hours away by plane! You can’t go _now_!” Sam remarks after Dean’s words sink in. Dean snorts.

“Good thing I’m not taking the plane.”

* * *

_A few hours later_

“Nice of you to join the party.”

Rufus is already standing there in his usual way with his hands on his hips, and the biggest scowl in the world stuck on his face. Dean hasn’t really ever seen him look differently at things.

“It’s still _my_ company that found him,” Dean mutters out. When he passes Rufus, he slaps him on the shoulder, gently, before continuing through the hallway. “Chevy, put the suit into guard mode.”

“Of course, sir,” Chevy answers. Behind him, the suit closes up again and its eyes glow up. The thing is safe, nobody would dare touching it. When Dean looks over his shoulder, he can see Rufus walking along without really making an effort of catching up with him.

“So your brother gonna join us as well?” the man asks. Dean thinks back of his brother, who was still in New York with a jetlag when he left. He would guess that, no, Sam won’t be joining them any time soon.

“Dude just got back from a meeting in Switzerland,” Dean explains. “Won’t really be wise to put all that green anger into another plane in such a short time. He’ll see the Captain when the guy gets transferred to New York.”

“Ah, so you’re assuming we’ll just fly him over?” Rufus asks in annoyance. Dean slows down his pace to get on the same speed as Rufus.

“HQ is in New York, right? Besides, I’m pretty sure that there’s already a revalidation chamber decorated in everything that screams 40’s for his star spangled little ass back at the center, if I’m correct?”

Rufus grumbles something about having to find a way to keep Dean out of SHIELD’s personal files, but let’s face it; they won’t. With a supercomputer like Chevy assisting him, there’s nothing that’ll stop him from hacking into every single device that he finds.

Eventually, it’s Rufus who has to lead the way to the medical center, and as soon as Dean gets inside, a cold wave of air passes over him. He notices the workers wearing thick coats, and even Rufus goes to put on some gloves. Maybe Dean should have thought about bringing along clothing that actually _fits_ the arctic. Holy crap, it’s freezing in here!

“That’s to make sure that lump of ice won’t melt prematurely,” Rufus explains. The two of them move forward to get closer. A few of the scientists take a step aside to let them pass, but nobody speaks to them. As soon as Dean is standing right in front of it, he vaguely catches the figure lying inside the cube of ice. People are using their scanners above it in an attempt to try and get good readings. Dean figures that, hey, if he’s alive, they’re safe to get him out of there. He managed to survive being frozen, he’ll sure as hell survive getting defrosted as well.

“How soon until you can get him out?” he finds himself asking Rufus. The man makes an unknowing sound while crossing his arms in front of him. Like always, he looks unimpressed, but let’s be honest here, there never really was any emotion on the guy’s face to begin with. He’s a grumpy old man, and that will never change.

“In a few hours, I think. We were mostly just waiting for your brother’s advice on this.”

Dean tilts his head towards the man in question. “My brother?” he asks. Rufus nods stiffly.

“He probably knows more about this guy than any of us do.”

And it’s true. Even when he was very young, their dad allowed Sam into the lab where he did all his research. The kid had been surrounded by Captain America’s information even before he was able to talk. Dean has never been allowed in, or anything, so other than what Sammy told him, Dean has no idea what really went on in there, only that his little brother had been so sure that he’d found the serum that made Captain America into… well, Captain America. He had been _so_ sure that he even tested it on himself, which obviously went wrong, instead allowing him to end up in a big green raging giant that has limited ways to be stopped other than exhaustion and an even bigger raging giant monster that managed to take out an entire city as well. Good times…

“You’ll have to wait a little longer, then,” Dean says. He shoots one last look at the man lying underneath the ice, and though the image of him is blurred, Dean knows exactly what he looks like. Wild dark brown hair, dark blue eyes, a permanent stubble. He has a sharp nose, full, light lips. He’s the American Icon of the 40’s, now currently put into a sleep that he has to wake from.

“The shield?” he asks at the last minute. Rufus stares him down for a few more seconds before he steps aside, revealing the famous round shield his father created from the rarest element on Earth. The paint on it is fainted, but it’s still recognizable and not unfixable.

Dean just nods at all of them and moves back out when he finds he’s had just enough with seeing his own breath appear in front of his face.

* * *

The first few days after the Captain’s awakening haven’t been Dean’s proudest days. He knows he’s being a little ridiculous with all the avoiding and asking for details from his brother, who’s the doctor assign to inspect the Captain thoroughly before he can be released from the medical wing. As far as he knows, the man is completely healthy, despite being a little disoriented from waking up after being frozen for seventy years.

Dean has been made aware of Captain Castiel Novak’s awakening. It hadn’t been a pleasant one for him _and_ those guards that were trying to calm him down. One of those guys even ended up in the hospital with a broken arm. It took Rufus Turner sneaking up on him on Times Square for him to calm down and accept that the world has moved on while he hadn’t.

 _“I had a date_ ,” the Captain had said, and Dean knows who he’s talking about. And it still makes him feel uneasy to know that the man he looked up on is probably still completely in love with the memory of his mother while Mary Winchester moved on after a long time of mourning.

Today, anyway, is just a day like another. Dean follows his brother to the room Novak stays at, but stays outside before the man can see him. The only different thing is that Sam leaves the door open this time, despite being the one always insisting on closing it. Dean doesn’t really mind, though. It gives him the opportunity to listen in on what’s actually happening.

“Hello Captain Novak,” Sam greets the man sitting on the bed. Dean hears some shifting, probably the Captain sitting up for the examination.

“Hello Dr. Winchester,” the low and gravelly voice of the Captain greets back. Dean wonders if the man used to smoke a lot for getting a voice like that. Or maybe it’s just a side-effect from being frozen all those years? Who knows, Dean is not a medical Doctor. But come to think of it, neither is Sam.

“How are you feeling today?” Sam asks. Dean doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he’s probably starting to take his vitals.

“Just the same,” comes out as an answer. Dean knows he isn’t imagining the sadness in the man’s voice, but he can understand that emotion. Waking up and finding out all of your friends have died? Mustn’t be a good feeling. Dean can’t imagine ending up in a time where his brother is already dead. Or Cassie, or, heck, even Garth! Rufus, on the other hand, he couldn’t care any less about.

“Eavesdropping, huh?” a female voice suddenly says from behind him. Dean startles and takes a fighting stance in reflex, only to find Meg Masters standing behind him. She has her typical sly grin on her face, and her curls are put up in a messy bun.

“Widow,” he greets her bitterly. Meg Masters, codename Black Widow, is another person he couldn’t care any less about. To say it short; she’s a bitch. Sure, she looks hot and her acting skills are indescribably (she even managed to convince Dean once that she was attracted to him in the time that she was his new assistant)

“Can’t blame you, though,” Meg says, coming to stand next to the door opening to catch a glimpse from the two men inside the room. “Damn, look at those muscles! You wouldn’t say he’d be so muscular! He looks so slim all the time!”

“Why are you here, Masters?” Dean asks in a sigh. The days he doesn’t meet up with the woman are the happy days. Somehow, Meg Masters has the ability to suck out all the joy from another person by just saying hello.

“To look at that hot piece of ass! If it weren’t for Turner I would have introduced myself already!”

Dean just rolls his eyes and decides to ignore her further. He knows Meg has this unusual loyalty towards Rufus Turner, though why that is, he has no idea. Nobody really knows Meg, other than that she used to be a mercenary, killing people because it was a job to her. How she ended up in SHIELD in the first place is another one of those mysteries.

While Meg has been talking, he’s missed a bit of conversation between the Captain and his brother. It surprises him when, the moment he starts listening again, the first thing he hears is:

“Can you tell me a bit about your father?”

Dean dares to bet he isn’t wrong when he imagines his brother’s mouth having fallen open from the surprise of that question. Mostly because that is his own reaction right now. Sure, there have been questions about the famous John Winchester back in the day, but people quickly learned that the brothers never really wanted to talk about them.

And right now, Dean could curse it out, because, while Dean would speak about the good things the man did in his life, Sam doesn’t have that filter (or that high opinion about his dad). And Sam would talk about the endless nights where the boys have been lonely, with no mother to be comforted by when their father wasn’t present. He would talk about the bad moments instead of the good ones, no matter how few of them there were.

But Sam surprises him when he least expects it.

“My father mourned your loss, just like my mother did. But they finally got together in the end and found happiness with each other, no matter how short that moment was.”

And that’s all his brother says. Sure, his voice sounds bitter and it’s obvious he’s trying to hold back, but he manages to keep it in, and Dean couldn’t be happier at that moment. Right next to him, Meg whistles in admiration.

“Man, you two seem to have a lot of daddy issues,” she mutters out. Dean glares at her for a moment, but then decides to ignore her further when Sam starts talking again.

“I’m not sure if they told you about my mother?” Sam says carefully, knowing that it is a sensitive subject for the Captain.

“No, I haven’t heard anything about her. How did John meet her?”

Is Dean imagining it, or does the man sound like he’s about to cry?

“They met in the war, actually. You knew her. Mary Campbell?” Sam explains. There’s no more answer after that, but suddenly Dean can hear a quiet sob, followed by a loud sigh – indication that the guy is trying to bury his emotions away. Dean knows what that’s like; he does the same thing every day!

“I’m- eh, I’m glad they found each other in the end,” the Captain says. That’s enough for Dean right now. He turns away from the door to make his exit, unable to get it into his head that this guy is as old as his parents. That this is the guy his mother had been so heartbroken about. The guy that managed to be the biggest part of his childhood despite being frozen in ice.

Meg asks where he’s going, and even Sam seems to call out for him, but Dean doesn’t care. He tells Chevy to get the suit ready, and the moment he’s outside he’s already flying away, escaping the truth lying in that room.

It’s sick to imagine it, but he can’t help but wonder how different life would have been if the Captain had never been frozen in the ice; if they would have found him right afterwards and he would have been healthy all along.

There wouldn’t have been any _him_ , or Sam! There would have been a world without his brother, and that’s just wrong. But the most horrible part about this all is that he’s actually _glad_ this guy got frozen. Without that, he wouldn’t even be here.

And just that thought, the fact that he’s thankful for this guy’s misery, makes him feel sick, and he needs all the distraction he can get.

* * *

_June 1943_

_It’s another one of those days. Jimmy has taken him to another one of those crowded places, and he’s making another few jokes to impress the girls on his arms. They laugh, of course they do. Jimmy never fails to make them laugh even the slightest bit._

_Castiel is walking a few steps behind them, distancing himself as much as he can without looking too much like he went to this place by himself. If walking with a woman taller than him makes him uncomfortable, the looks of pity he gets when they see him walking alone makes him even more so._

_Castiel casts another look at the brunette Jimmy has asked for him. She is supposed to be_ his _date, but instead she’s falling for Jimmy’s charms – like they always do. It’s not like Castiel has any chance anyway. He might not be the smallest of all people, but he’s still skinny and scrawny, and he can’t walk even two streets without getting short of breath because of his asthma._

_Yeah, Castiel has a lot of diseases in the many files he’s brought in to the medical exams, and it’s those diseases that get him rejected every time if his appearance didn’t already do the trick. What much can they do with a guy like him? No muscles, no nothing. He has no talent other than getting himself into trouble. The bruise on his chin he gotten during a beating that morning is the proof of that._

_At first Jimmy had said it’s just puberty, that Castiel hadn’t fully grown out of it yet. But here he is, at the age of twenty-two, looking exactly the same with no improvement. Jimmy never judged him of it, of course. He’s his twin brother, for crying out loud. Jimmy just has been lucky enough to get the good genes instead of the bad ones._

_But now with his brother leaving for the army, Castiel can’t help but feel pressured. His best friend is leaving to fight, and he needs to join him, to be by his side._

_Jimmy manages to push themselves to the front of the audience, where a few ladies were dancing in short skirts. Many men are whistling at them, shouting out how pretty they find them. But looking at them doesn’t do anything to Castiel. Sure, they have nice legs, and their faces are one by one pretty. But it doesn’t get the same response to him like it does to those other guys._

_Castiel has long since given up on trying to find girls attractive. It’s probably one of his many more faults. He figures it’s just him waiting for the right lady to come along. He’s read about it; a soulmate. Castiel has probably one walking around here, making him unable to feel attracted to anybody else. He doesn’t mind at all._

_“Hey Cassie! The show is starting!” Jimmy shouts him out of his thoughts. Castiel’s head moves up again, eyes coming to rest on the stage in front of him where the girls are starting to dance. He hadn’t even noticed the music started playing._

_“_ Ladies and gentlemen, Winchester Expo proudly presents; John Winchester!” _a voice shouts above all the others, and then two spotlights point towards a single figure coming to stand in between the girls. He has a young face and dark hair. His teeth are snow white and seem to reflect on the light._

_“Oh how it’s nice to be back!” the man shouts, and when Castiel hears his voice something goes through him. It’s probably the loudness of it, seeing as he’s heard above all of the audience. He turns to look at Jimmy for a moment, seeing him smirk up at him. The two ladies he brought along seem to swoon from the guy’s mere presence._

_Castiel’s eye catches something over Jimmy’s shoulder, and the voice of the man on the stage – John Winchester – dims away. There, right there, is a registration post. Another chance for him to try, and hopefully be accepted._

_Without bothering to say anything else to Jimmy, he casts another look at the man on the stage, who is kissing one of the dancing girls and ends up with red lipstick on his face. All Castiel can do is roll his eyes, and then he makes his way out of the crowd._

_It’s harder than it seems, mostly because he doesn’t have a lot of muscles, and having to push his way through can be very exhausting, but next to that, Castiel has never been one to just give up. So with a lot of effort he gets out, ending up out of breath but proud that he didn’t need Jimmy’s bulldozing to go through._

_After a few seconds of catching his breath, Castiel starts to move forward again. There aren’t a lot of people at the sign-up post since everybody is watching the show, but the people that_ are _standing there are staring at him with a confused expression. Like always, he goes at the meter for maximum height, seeing that he is, like he has always been, exactly high enough to be considered a candidate. If only height was enough, though._

_“Cassie,” suddenly comes from behind him, and Castiel can’t help but sigh as he’s once more discovered by Jimmy, who is walking up to him. The show seems to be going, still, but apparently Jimmy has noticed his disappearance even faster than Castiel would have expected._

_“I need to do this, Jimmy,” Castiel defends himself._

_“No way! They might catch you with fake documentation, or even worse!” Jimmy counters. Castiel frowns up at him._

_“What could possibly be worse?” he asks, already knowing the answer to that._

_“They might accept you,” comes out, just like Castiel expected. The smaller man takes another deep breath and turns his face away once more. It’s not Jimmy’s fault; he’s been over-protective of Castiel forever. Despite being twins, Jimmy has always been stronger and taller than him._

_“I need to help, Jims,” Castiel starts after a few moments of silence. “I can’t just sit at the sidelines while everybody goes to fight the war, collecting scrap metal alongside the kids, that’s just not me.”_

_Jimmy lowers his head, letting out a long breath of defeat._

_“I know I won’t be able to change your mind; I’ve never managed to do that. Just be careful, whatever their answer will be, because I won’t be able to save your sorry-ass after I leave tomorrow.”_

_Castiel nods, unable to hold back the need to hug his best friend before they say goodbye. This double-date was over before it started, they both know that. It’s not like the woman, Maggie, has said anything else to him other than a short greeting. He’s not the usual woman’s type._

_Not like they are, either._

_“I’ll come and join you quickly enough,” Castiel counters before Jimmy takes a few more steps back and starts walking away. He holds his arms out towards the two women, and they gladly join him back into the crowd in front of the stage, where Winchester is demonstrating his flying car._

_Castiel looks away, walking towards the desk to ask the sign-up papers for the medical exam. Little does he know that these are the last one’s he’ll ever need to fill in._

* * *

The first time he meets the Captain Dean can’t help but put up this little charade. It’s something he always does when he doesn’t want people to know the real him. He can’t help it, it’s just a defense mechanism he can’t get rid of.

His brother is safely away in the Helicarrier with other SHIELD scientists, under the protection of Turner’s agents. Dean doesn’t know when they called for him, but he _does_ remember that, when they came to fetch the Iron Man, poor Alfie (another one of SHIELD’s agents) had been scarred for life when he found the billionaire with those two models in bed having the fun of their lives (even Cassie called him up angrily for traumatizing the poor guy).

Dean feels kind of grumpy. He didn’t even have the chance to finish; instead, Alfie told him to do the research SHIELD had prepared for him and then he had to suit up. The research was almost nothing; Dean’s brain still works perfectly, despite all the alcohol he’s consumed in his past. The models were sad to leave, and Dean was sad to see them go, but when he’s been made fully aware of their newest threat, Dean couldn’t help but activate his new suit so he could make his journey to freaking Germany, where apparently the Captain is on his first mission since his defrosting.

Dean makes it to Germany in record time, blasting Led Zeppelin loudly from the speakers he hacked inside Meg’s hoovercraft. He manages to stop Lucifer – the ‘Angel’ from outer space that wants to rule over the Earth; just your typical villain – and they all hop in on the vehicle where they sit Lucifer down and try to figure out what exactly is going on.

“I don’t trust it,” the Captain says to nobody specifically. “No-one gives up that easily.” Meg is busy communicating with the base, so she doesn’t answer him. Dean can’t help but share the Captain’s feelings of discomfort about this all. He removes his helmet finally and lets the suit open up so he can get some space. The suit closes up again and comes to stand in front of the sitting Lucifer, holding his hand toward the guy, ready to shoot.

“I must have made an impression, then,” Dean jokes. He starts looking through every cabinet inside the cargo bay, only to find parachutes and helmets for soldiers. There’s not even anything to drink. Do they know how hard he’s been flying to get to Germany in time?

“I didn’t know Turner sent you on this mission?” comes out in response. Dean can hear the uncertainty in the Captain’s voice, like the man is kind of scared of him. What’s that for? Dean can simply shrug, suddenly extremely aware of how tight-fitting his undersuit is. He hopes the Cap isn’t too much of a prude to be offended by that in any way.

“Well, there’s much Turner wouldn’t be tellin’ you,” Dean mutters back without looking at the guy. He walks towards Meg to check the screen she’s looking at. Everything seems to be alright with the vehicle they’re in – which is only logical since it’s _his_ design, after all. “Can’t you speed that up a little bit, sweetheart? I’m on a schedule and all.”

He likes to annoy Meg, and he mostly succeeds at that by giving the woman nicknames. In fact, they barely tolerate each other. Meg wouldn’t be angry at him, not at all. Instead, he just probably started a pestering war between the two of them. Serves her only right for trying to flirt with his brother in the past.

"You sit your ass back down and guard the Angel, _honeybun_ ,” she calls back with such a sweet voice. Dean can only chuckle and slap her once on her shoulder in acknowledgement before turning back around, where he finds the Cap looking at her with big eyes.

“So, you two-?” he starts to ask with that low voice of his. Dean’s eyes open wide immediately, but then he starts to laugh with Meg following him right up to that.

“No _sweety_ , Dean’s just an ass who flirts with everything with breasts that moves, just like his good old daddy back in the day,” Meg offers as an answer. For a small second, Dean catches a glare directed towards the woman sitting behind the wheel, but it’s quickly hidden away again when the guy turns his head to the side, trying to hide his emotions.

“Hey, my father might have been playboy of the month for a few years, but he changed during the war,” Dean mutters back at Meg, noticing once more how the Cap’s tense shoulders then relax once more.

“This sounds interesting,” the _Angel_ , Lucifer, suddenly says from where he’s seated, holding a long smirk on his face when he stares at Dean. In return, Dean crosses his arms and raises his head, annoyed at his sudden interest in the conversation.

“Listen asshole, I had two _beautiful_ models in my bed back at home before you went all _General Zod_ on those people! You don’t get to talk!”

Widow chuckles from where she’s seated, but on the Captain’s face only grows more horror combined with confusion.

“General Zod?” he asks in clarification. Next to him, Lucifer snorts. Dean lets his suit raise its arm towards him, getting ready to aim in case he would try something else.

“Come on, Superman? The Man of Steel? Is it a Bird, is it a Plane?” No reaction comes from the guy. “Oh come on, those comics came out in 1938! You weren’t an ice-cube back then!”

The Captain just shrugs with an empty expression on his face.

“Not like I had a lot of time or money to read comics,” he mutters in return, turning his head towards his shield and starting cleaning it up to avoid any further comment on it. After that, nothing more is said. Dean nods at the Cap’s back once before starting to inspect his suit once more. The other man sits himself down at last, carefully watching their prisoner with hard eyes while quietly rubbing a piece of cloth over the shield. 

And then the thunder comes.

* * *

Sam and Cap get along quite well, much to Dean’s surprise. Even after they locked up Lucifer in their cell – normally intended for when Sam lashes out – and Michael has explained the situation to them, they all find themselves in the main hall where all the SHIELD-workers are seated behind their computer screen and Turner is barking out his orders.

Dean is sitting at the table while Sam and his new friend are talking about the super-soldier serum. Sam wants to know everything about it despite the fact that searching for it is the very reason his life is how it is now. Dean throws his head back and makes short eye contact with Meg, who seems equally bored about it.

When Dean puts his feet on the table, though, Michael lets himself be heard for the first time, starting to talk about how impolite it is to put one’s feet at the table when other people are seated and all. Dean stopped listening halfway his first sentence was finished, and once he’s sure the guy has stopped talking, he stands up at last, slapping the _Angel_ on his shoulder.

“Whatever you say, pal,” he mutters to him before walking away towards Turner, who’s busy talking to a jumpy Alfie. Before he can reach the guy, though, Sam calls out for him. Right, they have an alien device to track down and an archer to rescue.

The two brothers leave the control room without saying anything to the other. Sam hands Dean a tablet with all the research he has already done on this so-called tesseract – or rather, the research their father has done. Alfie had given them these documents when he came to fetch them, and though Dean has only skimmed these through rather quickly, Sam actually studied them during the flight to the Helicarrier.

“So how do you feel about Michael?” Sam suddenly says, making Dean raise an eyebrow. That’s a strange thing to start a conversation with, right?

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s muscular and divine and all, but, you know, too manly for my taste,” Dean mutters out in response, earning him an eyeroll from his brother, who is opening the door to the lab for them.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean, and you know it,” Sam counters bitterly. Dean just shrugs. He can never pass up on an opportunity to taunt his little brother now, can he?

“So he’s a so-called ‘Angel’, and he fights with a magic sword, and his brother Lucifer is trying to destroy the world. Sounds to me like a cheap super-hero movie, but you know I love those.”

Sam shakes his head in surrender and starts up the computer. There isn’t much else he seems to be wanting to say, which is fine by Dean. He, too, sets himself behind a computer, passing a few requests to Chevy to help him out.

While his AI is making some calculations, Dean turns around again, leaning with his back against the table and crossing his arms.

“You and the Cap seem to be getting quite along?” Dean tries, really failing at trying to sound casual. Sam looks up from his screen and raises an eyebrow as well.

“So? He’s a friendly guy and he knew our parents, what’s wrong with that?” Sam throws in return.

“You do know he and mom were together, right?” Dean tries.

“And what’s your point?”

“Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that he might have, I don’t know, slept with her back in the day? Doesn’t that seem even the least bit disturbing to you?”

Sam’s face shows a small sign of disgust, but he quickly covers that up again, avoiding Dean’s look by going back to his work. He looks tense, though, meaning that Dean’s word might have had an impact on him.

“You are a hypocrite, Dean,” Sam then finally says. He takes his glass of water and takes a big gulp from it. “You are talking about a guy that _might_ have had sex with our mother, but are you even thinking about all the mothers you’ve had sex with?”

Dean opens his mouth to counter that accusation, but finds that nothing comes to mind in his defense. Sam’s right of course. Let’s not even talk about the possible mothers he could have created (or almost did). So far there are none that he knows of, but there have been a few close calls. Mostly he only got notified about those because the women asked for money for the abortion.

“Shut up,” Dean finally gets out, dropping his hands back onto the holo-screen and adjusting some numbers while he waits for Chevy to finish. “So you okay? This not a little bit… much for you?”

Sam doesn’t look up but his face does seem worried. His hands still, breath catches, and then he sighs.

“I can manage it, but I’m not sure about Lucifer…”

Dean points his thumb towards the hallway. “What? Sparkles over there? He’s safe in a cage, little brother!” Dean assures him. It wouldn’t be good to any of them if Sam would lash out just because this Lucifer-guy gives him the creeps.

“The way he looked at me when they passed him through the hallway. It didn’t look promising,” Sam admits. He passes his hand through his hair – a habit he’s developed after trying out the serum on himself. “Just, to be safe, keep that guy as far away from me as possible.”

Dean nods. Of course, Sam knows his limits better than anyone else here. It’s not because he’s managed to find a way and turn whenever he wants that he can also control it when emotions get too strong. He can force it, but he can’t hold it.

“Captain,” Sam suddenly says with his head raised, and Dean turns around to find the guy standing there, still in his uniform, looking a little lost to say the least.

“Sorry, Meg – eh, Widow – was having a discussion about her partner with Turner, and when Michael started talking about his beloved _Anna_ I knew I had to get out of there,” the guy mutters out, obviously nervous about something. Dean doesn’t really feel the need to help him out of that feeling, instead choosing to stare at the guy without doing an effort of moving. The guy avoids his gaze anyway, instead casting his eyes downwards.

“It’s okay, come on in,” Sam says, dropping down a pen he had apparently been holding, and pushing his screen aside. The Captain nods and walks forward, passing Dean by without really saying a word, instead joining Sam behind his desk.

“Any progress on finding Meg’s partner – I’m sorry, I don’t know his name…”

“Her name, to be precise,” Dean corrects him in a mutter. The Captain looks up at him at last, making Dean startle once more when he gets a good glimpse of his blue eyes. “Hawkeye is a woman,” Dean adds to that, voice suddenly a bit softer than before.

No, he shouldn’t suddenly feel sorry for that guy. It’s because of him that Dean and Sam were raised the way they were; without a mother, and with a father that was barely there for him. He should not show any softness for this man just because he has big blue eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” the Captain says, frowning a little bit as he looks down again. Sam seems to have opened a file about Ruby for him, showing the man an image of the blonde girl known as Ruby Parson, the archer employed by SHIELD who has only really introduced to Dean when the whole Michael-thing happened back in New Mexico. It’s not like he met the lady before, but he’s heard a few stories about her and Widow – mission like, not in the type of ‘they-are-secretly-a-thing’. Besides, Ruby has too much of a crush on Sam for Dean to even consider that.

“Turner’s report here says that it only took one touch on her heart from Lucifer to have her under his spell? He must be extremely powerful, then. I’m surprised we caught him that easily,” the Captain mutters while he continues reading through the files Sam had prepared for him.

“Yeah, well, strong or not, everybody has a weak spot and sparkles’ over here is probably handsome men in metal suits,” Dean jokes like he always does. Sam rolls his eyes at him, and the Captain frowns a little bit while he takes over Dean’s words and wondering if Dean is actually serious or not.

“I don’t understand – sparkles?” the guy then asks, making Sam laugh and Dean roll his eyes. God, this guy is just so clueless. What did his mother ever even see in this guy?

“Come on, Chevy! How long does a guy have to wait for some stupid results?” Dean shouts into the air, ignoring the Captain’s question pointedly. It normally doesn’t take Chevy this long to come up with results.

“ _Apologies, sir, but SHIELD’s defenses are a lot more complicated than anticipated. It might take me a little bit longer,”_ Chevy’s dry voice answers. Dean sighs and sits himself down in his chair, taking out one of SHIELD’s prototype-guns lying on the table and starting to mess around with it with his screwdriver.

“If you have to wait, you might as well do something useful,” Dean mutters, repeating the words his mother always used to say when they had to wait somewhere – was it the doctor’s or at the mall. The memories are vague, but these words he remembers all too well.

Sam does, too. But not because he’s heard her say them in the past, but mostly because it’s the exact same thing Dean used to tell him when they were in the same position. Sam knows it’s from their mother.

Dean notices the Captain staring at him as well, eyes big in wonder and surprise, and Dean is sure he can see a little bit of pain hidden inside of there. Not much he can do about that, right. He stands back up, fishes a packet of M&N’s out of his bag, and offers one to Sam – and then, just so he isn’t too much of a jerk – he points it towards the Captain as well, but he is just shaking his head.

Without another word, the guy leaves the room again, and Sam and Dean are left staring at the empty hallway where the guy escaped out in.

* * *

_June 1943_

_The first time Castiel meets Mary Campbell is on the day he arrived at the base. His team – or at least that’s what they’re supposed to be – is standing in formation with their legs straight and their arms behind their backs. While everybody is just looking forward, Castiel is raising his head a little bit to at least appear taller than the others – he’s lacking in muscles already, but it stings even more when he sees that he’s also the smallest one of them all._

_They’re all standing in position because a woman’s voice has told them to do so, and when Castiel dares to cast a look sideways he finds a young blonde woman in uniform moving towards them. She has her hair loose, a pale face, and blood red lips. The way she walks in her uniform screams experience, but Castiel wonders how much experience she could really have at such a young age?_

_“My name is Agent Mary Campbell from the SSR,” the woman says with a strong voice, posture still straight. She has two other soldiers standing behind her, which must mean that she’s possibly their superior. Castiel’s point stands; how could a woman that young already be in such a high ranking?_

_“Excuse me, miss, but why aren’t there more of you out here?” one guy on Castiel’s right asks. Foolish guy, already implying things with the first woman he sees._

_“And what exactly do you mean, more of me?” Campbell asks. She doesn’t seem angry, which makes Castiel wonder if she’s really clueless about his meaning._

_“Hot dames, obviously. Had I known, I would have signed up earlier!” the guy jokes. He pokes Castiel in the arm when he finishes his joke, but he doesn’t get a response from him in return._

_Agent Campbell just stares at him, coming to stand in front of the guy with still distance between them. She rests her arms next to her body, inspecting him thoroughly before finally speaking again._

_“What’s your name?” the woman asks, sounding almost bored._

_“Brady, ma’am. Tyson Brady,” the man answers, smirk still evident on his face._

_“Step forward, Brady.”_

_He does._

_“Now put your right foot forward,” Agent Campbell tells him. Brady does that as well, obviously expecting an examination in his fighting stance since he’s already balling his fists._

_It comes as a surprise to everybody when agent Campbell’s fist connects with Brady’s face, and before any of them really knows it the guy is already lying on the ground with his hand pressed against his nose. A painful groan escapes his mouth as he rubs the blood dripping from his nose away._

_“Agent Campbell, that’s enough,” another man from behind her then says, making agent Campbell stand up straight again with a tiny twitch of fear in her face. Right after that, she masks her emotions again, putting her hands behind her back and turning towards the bald man._

_“Apologies, Colonel Campbell,” the woman says, making Castiel look up again. The name-sharing might just be a coincidence, right? There’s not even the tiniest bit of family resemblance between the two of them!_

_Agent Campbell takes a step backwards to give the colonel enough space when he dismisses her, and then he, too, rests his hands behind his back, eyes reaching the first one in the line. As he starts to open his mouth, his feet make him move forward in a slow march._

_“You have arrived here with one mission; fight for our country,” the man starts, passing by the first guy without anything else but a glance. He repeats the same thing with the second and the third. “But before we start to release any of you on the battlefield we need to make sure that we send in the best of you there is.”_

_Brady, next to Castiel, sniffs once when he tries to stop the blood from dripping from is nose._

_“It is_ our _mission to make sure you will become the best.” And now he comes to a stop in front of Castiel, seeming stuck on his words when he looks at him. Castiel does his best not to respond in any way, keeping his gaze forward and blunt. “Or at least try our damnest hard to make you so,” the guy then quickly adds, continuing from Castiel and literally ignoring Brady next to him._

_Suddenly, somebody from further away approaches Colonel Campbell and whispers something into his ear. The Colonel doesn’t move as he’s spoken to, and his face stays level the whole time. Then he nods, pointing towards Dr. Todd, who had been standing on the sidelines. Castiel remembers the guy extremely well; he’s the one who gave him a chance to be here._

_“You, come with me,” he says to the doctor. Then he points at the men next to him. “And you, wait here until I come back,” the man adds. After that the two men leave with the messenger, and Agent Campbell takes his place again._

_“If you have to wait, you might as well do something useful,” the woman says. She rests her hands on her hips and looks down at them – it’s strange how she can be smaller than them all but still managing that. “Push-ups, 50 each, and that’s me being gentle on you so no complaining!”_

_The groans that had already started stop immediately, and one by one the men kneel down on the floor to get into position. Castiel hates push-ups. He can barely do five, how is he ever going to manage to do fifty of them._

_It’s going to be a long wait…_

* * *

The Captain returns a little after Chevy finishes the hacking. Literally, one moment Dean is shouting that it’s done, and the next the guy enters, holding a strange-looking gun in his hands with his face hard and bitter.

He must have been doing some sight-seeing after he ran away, then. Dean almost wants to congratulate him for managing to figure it out on his own, but then he’s once more distracted by the suit the guy is wearing.

“Is it me, or has that suit even gotten tighter than an hour ago?” Dean jokes, copying the files of the holoscreen into his tablet, and then sitting down to read it at ease. On a first look, it seems like Dean’s suspicions had been right and SHIELD _was_ planning on building weapons. The gun in the Captain’s hand is even more proof of that.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” Sam asks from behind the desk, not even in the least surprised at this sudden turn of events. Of course he had been aware that Dean had put a hacking device in the control room while everybody was talking to Michael and trying to figure things out about this Lucifer-douche.

“You knew about this?” the Captain asks. Wait, Cas? When did Sam give him a nickname? Did Dean just totally miss that part?

“We believed there was a possibility, yes,” Sam tells him calmly. The Captain drops the gun onto Dean’s desk and rips the tablet out of his hand after catching a glimpse of whatever is on the holo screen.

“Hey!” Dean objects. Who does this guy think he is? He reaches out for the tablet again, but the Captain turns away, continuing reading.

“Unbelievable!” the guy mutters. He looks like he’s on the verge of breaking the damn thing in his hands, so Dean stands up to snatch it away again before that happens. It’s not because he’s rich that he likes to just waste things. He’s already lost a lot of money on replacing the things Sam destroyed when he Hulked out – a few houses for example, and then there’s the police station. And many more buildings.

“Careful, Turner is on his way here,” Sam warns them, and right then the door opens up again, revealing Turner with Widow and Michael behind him. Turner looks literally pissed off. Meg seems to be shaken off, more. Michael, on the other hand, gives Dean a pleased vibe, probably amused as well.

“You’re just as untrusting as your old man, Dean Winchester!” Turner starts when he walks inside. “What gives you the right to hack into our system?”

Dean just shrugs, giving Meg a short ‘what-can-you-do-about-it?’ look before standing up again.

“Obviously I was up to something,” he then says to the director, picking up the gun the Captain had taken inside. “I’ve read the file about this little toy. You want to use the Tesseract to power it, don’t you?”

All the eyes are resting on Turner now, who is at this point just staring at them all with his mouth fallen open.

“Tell me that isn’t true?” Meg asks with some strange hint of betrayal in her voice. Strange, Dean didn’t know the woman even had feelings? “Director, you know how dangerous the device is!”

“Widow!” Turner bites at her, and Meg takes a step back again, standing up straight out of reflex once the guy raises his voice. Michael seems confused about it all, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“No, she’s right,” the Captain then comes to her defense. He takes the gun out of Dean’s hand – what is it with this guy and taking things from him? Then he points at the director with it. “When I woke up, I was sure mankind knew better than to meddle with such powerful forces. Turns out history keeps on repeating itself.”

Then he slams the thing back down on the table and had it been charged it would surely have gone off.

“You want to know what happened to the men that were hit by the Cube’s power?” he continues, close to shouting. Dean shuffles backwards just to make sure that he wouldn’t get a hit or anything. Sam, on the contrary, moves forward with his hands raised a little bit. “They disintegrated, disappeared. There was nothing left of them. No ashes, no body parts. They were just gone. And that’s the weapon you’re trying to use _again._ You shouldn’t even wish your biggest enemies that ending.”

“The world has become a whole lot bigger now, Captain,” Turner levels with him. “Creatures we do not know of, and two of them have already found their way on Earth. We need to be prepared for when others will come.”

“There’s no time for this,” Meg interrupts him while moving forward again and placing herself between Turner and the Captain. “Dr. Winchester, we need to take you off this plane. You’re the reason Lucifer’s here.”

“ _Now_ you are worried about me lashing out? If I couldn’t handle a bit of flying I would have lost control a lot earlier,” Sam mutters out in annoyance. He puts a hand on the Captain’s shoulder to guide him away from the fight again, and the guy doesn’t fight the touch, complying by pulling back with slow steps.

“No, no, by all means, just keep up this fight, I’m quite enjoying this,” Dean jokes as usually, leaning back against the table and shrugging towards Michael who has still not said anything.

“You need to stop treating everything like a joke!” the Captain suddenly snaps at him.

“Don’t bother, his father was the same way,” Turner mutters back to him. Now the Captain looks even more furious.

“You know nothing of John Winchester,” he counters bitterly. Dean can see how Sam is keeping his hands on the man’s shoulder to keep him from throwing any punches. “John Winchester was a good man who cared about others. He was kind, honest and a good friend!”

Now Sam lets go of his shoulders with that strange expression on his face; he obviously disagrees, and the way he looks now is indication enough for Dean to know that he’s about to speak up his mind about everything the Captain just said.

“Sammy,” Dean tries to stop him, but he’s too late.

“I’m sorry, Cas, but that’s not true,” he says in a low voice. His fists are balled tightly, and Dean just wishes he won’t lose control. “John Winchester was a terrible man.”

Now the Captain turns to look at him with horrified eyes, clearly wanting to speak up again until Sam interrupts him.

“He spent most of his time trying to find you instead of trying to be a father. He was never proud of Dean for anything that he made, barely even looked out for him!”

“Sam!” Dean warns him once more, this time a little bit louder. Nobody seems to notice.

“You know one time Dean dressed up as you for somebody’s costumed birthday party, and all he got in return was a slap in the face for disrespecting you! And that’s not even the worse he has done! No, Captain, John Winchester _wasn’t_ a good man. He drank, he hit Dean, he was never there, and the moment I was old enough to live on my own, I left to make a difference in this world. But Dean was just too _loyal_ to the damn man that he actually stayed!”

“Sam, damn it stop talking right now or I’ll punch you in the face!” Dean now shouts. His hands are unknowingly grabbing the nearest thing around him, but once he sees everybody’s eyes widen in surprise does he bother looking down, only to find that he’s holding the spear in his hand.

Lucifer’s spear.

“Dean, put it down, please?” comes from next to him. It’s Meg, holding her hands in front of her in a surrendering way. The others, too, look extremely uncomfortable. Is it Dean, or did everybody take a step backwards?

Dean’s eyes travel back down to the thing he has in his hand, and with all the gentleness that he has, he puts it back down on the table he got it from. The relieved sighs from the others is almost ridiculous. Then Dean shakes his shoulders to relieve the tension for a bit.

“You, don’t speak about dad again,” Dean mutters, pointing towards the Captain. After that he turns to Sam. “And you’re a bitch.”

Dean huffs once more in annoyance and then heads towards the door to make an exit, needing to be away from all these people here.

“Where are you going?” Turner asks angrily.

“To take a walk, damnit!” Dean returns. He holds up his hand to flip them off. They need to understand that he wants to be completely alone on this.

Before he can get out of the room, though, the explosion start and the Captain is pulling him off the ground with his hands gripping his hips tightly.

“Time to put on the suit?” he suggests breathily, and Dean agrees.

“You’re probably right.”

* * *

_July 1943_

_Castiel notices immediately when they arrive in Brooklyn. It’s the alleys that do it for him. The first one on his right he remembers from when he tried to stop a man from harassing a woman. The second alley, this time on his left, is from when two men were beating up another man. The third one… ah, well, let’s just say that he’s been beat up a lot._

_The look agent Mary Campbell throws him is one of both admiration and surprise. Her pale face is strong and her lips are as red as they always are. Her blonde hair is loose and wavy, but held back by a pin on the right. She’s once more in her uniform, looking as beautiful like the day Castiel met her._

_“I don’t know whether I think you’re courageous or stupid,” Mary then says, though there’s no hint of a smile in her voice at all._

_“It’s not like running away would have helped me, anyway,” Castiel mutters, turning his head back towards the window to watch the road. At the side there are children playing with a ball, laughing and having fun. The weight of the war is not on their shoulders yet. They’re too young to understand it, anyway. “Besides, what am I proving to myself by running away?”_

_“Well, not all of us get equal opportunities in life. Some of us indeed have to fight to get where they are supposed to be,” Mary says in a sigh, sounding like she knows exactly what she’s talking about. Castiel lowers his head a little bit, slightly ashamed because of his earlier thoughts of her back when he first met her. He had just assumed that she got where she is now because of her father in the army. Clearly, she still had to work for it._

_“Why would a beautiful dame like you want to join the army?” Castiel says, then remembering how ‘dame’ is not really a word he should be using here, right? “I mean a beautiful woman? As an Agent?”_

_Mary is looking at him again, amusement clear in her eyes but not on the rest of her face._

_“You really have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” she wonders out loud. Castiel now can’t help a chuckle. How could she guess, really? The only woman he’s really talked to is his own mother, so this is a complete new zone for him._

_“This is the longest conversation I ever had with one,” he admits in embarrassment. “I might not be tiny, but if they can choose between the charismatic muscular soldier or the socially inept scrawny guy, I think their choice quickly made.” That, and Castiel has never really felt attraction towards women before, but that’s not really something he wants to throw at her right now. He does feel something different talking to Mary; like she’s supposed to be someone important in his life. Maybe she’s the one he’s been waiting for all his life?_

_She_ is _beautiful, though, and Castiel rarely thinks things like that about women._

_Mary looks almost sad while she listens to him. “I’m sure you have danced with a woman before?” she suggests. Once more, Castiel shakes his head._

_“Not really. Women used to terrify me, before,” Castiel explains. It’s weird how this conversation is still going. “And after the war started, it didn’t really seem to matter anymore. So I decided to wait.”_

_“Wait for what?” the woman asks._

_“The right partner,” Castiel answers, once more looking outside just to avoid her gaze. Mary doesn’t add anything to that, anymore, but Castiel is sure he saw a smile on her face when she got out of the car. Huh, so he manages to make a girl kind-of like him without even trying? Surely Jimmy would find all this just hilarious!_

_Mary brings him inside an antique shop where they’re greeted by the cashier. He doesn’t really seem to pay attention because the clocks and woodwork kind of distract him. There are so many, and they’re ticking so loudly that he wonders how it hasn’t driven the woman mad yet._

_After a few words with the cashier, Mary touches Castiel’s arm as a warning that they should go. The soldier nods and picks up his pace, marching through a door that wasn’t there before._

_Once they get to the end of the hallway, Castiel finds himself looking down at the ‘laboratory’ this whole thing is going down. Everybody in the room has their eyes rested on him, and Castiel feels the uncomfortable feelings rising up a little bit._

_“Let’s get down,” Mary says after a few seconds, pointing towards the stairs that will bring them to the machinery. Castiel nods and follows the woman, trying to avoid every gaze thrown his way. Instead he keeps his eyes locked on Dr. Todd, standing near the machine in the middle of the room. He looks just as old and skinny as when Castiel met him. He doesn’t smile – he never does – but so far he has shown nothing more than respect towards Castiel, so the soldier trusts him._

_“Hello Dr. Todd,” Castiel greets the man. He_

_“Hello, mister Novak. Are you ready for this?”_

_Castiel nods, probably appearing a bit too eager about this. He takes another short look around, figuring quite quickly that he’s surely going to end up on that weird metal bed with all those weird rounded plates around it._

_Next to him, some of the scientists are readying up the devices that are probably meant to regulate the machine. Castiel has been informed about it all, but the details have kind of escaped him already. He throws Mary one short look, and she just smiles faintly at him. It’s her way to reassure her that it’s going to be okay._

_“Agent Campbell, I’m sure you’ll have a better view from up there,” Dr. Todd says, pointing towards the observation chamber, with the only thing separating them being a large window. Castiel can see Colonel Campbell standing there as well, seemingly in a discussion with who Castiel recognizes as the minister of defense and the senator. He knows that Colonel Campbell has never really been impressed by him. He hopes he could change that after this._

_Mary wishes Castiel good luck before leaving, and then he’s instructed to take off his shirt and to lay down on the table. Castiel nods, not hesitating to pull the clothing over his head and throwing it a little further away. Then he steps towards the table, putting a hand on it only to realize that the thing is indeed cold like he’d suspected._

_He takes a deep breath before setting himself down on it, ignoring the cold sensation on the skin of his back._

_“Comfortable?” Dr. Todd then asks. There’s no smile on his face, but Castiel can sense a bit of amusement and anticipation in his voice._

_“It’s a little big?” Castiel offers, trying to joke his nerves away._

_“That won’t be a problem for long,” Dr. Todd assures him before turning his face to the left. “Mr. Winchester, how are your levels?”_

_Now Castiel looks up in reaction to that name. He was not aware that this man would be present? Sure, he has no problem at all with Mr. Winchester, but still, a guy can end up a little bit star struck, right? Besides, the last time he even saw this guy, the man had another woman’s tongue down his throat._

_“The levels are at one hundred percent,” the familiar voice of the inventor says. He seems to be walking towards them, so Castiel isn’t surprised when the man suddenly appears in his line of sight. He looks so incredible young to be such a successful scientist, but the work he has done so far proves that he’s really capable of doing what he does._

_Their eyes meet for a moment. John Winchester’s eyes are green, but the light kind of green, closing in on grey almost. He doesn’t have lines on his face, only the young arrogance that must have come up with his ego. Under his nose he has that typical moustache he has always had for as far as Castiel knows._

_“We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn,” the man starts to say, but then he suddenly stops and just stares, mouth having fallen open for a little bit. Castiel can’t help his heart from speeding up a little bit, but he’s sure that’s from the anticipation. What could Mr. Winchester possibly have to do with that?_

_“Winchester?” Dr. Todd asks after the silence seems to be a little bit too long for his taste. Castiel doesn’t even notice the belt they’re closing over his stomach._

_“Oh, uh, sorry. We’re ready as we’ll ever be,” the inventor says, turning around quickly once he catches himself. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to forget this strange happening. It’s probably nothing, so he shouldn’t worry about it, right?_

_In the corners of his eyes he can see Dr. Todd walking closer while holding something near his mouth. Castiel can’t really see what it is._

_“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Todd starts saying in that dry way of his. Castiel now understands that the man is holding a microphone. Meanwhile, two assistants are at his side, preparing him for the upcoming process. Two small metal plates are put in front of his chest – why, though, Castiel is unsure of. Surely there must be a reason for it._

_“I’m glad to announce that this next path we will take will not lead us to more destruction, but to peace, instead.” Castiel can see Mary sit down on a chair back in the observation room. She looks nervous. “We will begin now with a series of micro-injections. These will be inserted in the subject’s major muscle groups.”_

_There’s the sound of glass clicking together on Castiel’s right, and then he sees a few vials being passed over to the other assistant. The liquid inside of it looks blue, and the vials are small. This shouldn’t be too bad, right?_

_“The serum will then cause an immediate cellular change, and it will stimulate growth after we saturate the subject with vita-rays.”_

_Okay, the assistant next to him is pointing with a needle. So here it comes, here it starts. Castiel takes a deep breath and closes his hands into fists, his skin turning pale from the lack of blood flowing in._

_The injection only stings a little, but it’s over rather quickly. The needle is pulled out of his arm, and a small compress is put on his skin to hold back any escaping fluid._

_“That wasn’t too bad,” Castiel offers, surprised that it’s over that quickly. Dr. Todd frowns for a moment standing on Castiel’s right and watching the process._

_“That was penicillin,” Dr. Todd deadpans, then shrugs when Castiel throws him a slight panicked look. “Serum injection will begin after countdown.”_

_The man put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder in a way to comfort him. Castiel nods at him in appreciation. And then the countdown begins._

* * *

The room they’d built for Sam’s cage is huge enough that a whole house could fit in there. Sure, most of the space is just empty, nothing more than metal walls that hum with the engine of the helicarrier. Dean likes that sound; it calms him. Especially now that he’s not ruining his suit while repairing the damn thing.

The cage is gone, dropped down into the open air, probably ended up in the ocean. Dean doesn’t really know who was in it, but it surely wasn’t Sam since _he_ actually jumped out of the lab’s windows instead to attack the quinjet that was supposed to distract him from destroying the whole damn place. Dean doesn’t know what happened to Michael after that, but he can guess that the guy went to stop his brother from escaping.

Obviously that failed.

Dean’s eyes are stuck on the bloodied place next to the entrance. Traces of red are on the metal rails, but most of it is on the floor, still extremely visible despite them trying to clean it up afterwards. It’s no use, even if the blood is gone, that’ll still be the place where it happened. With an effort he turns his face away, staring back into the big nothingness where Sam’s cell was supposed to be.

Alfie was still so young.

Dean is aware of the footsteps nearing, and for a moment he wonders who’s foolish enough to go after him. Everybody at SHIELD knows Dean can’t handle situations like these, especially not with words. Talking to anybody right now would result in him shouting out curses and accusations to whoever he’s standing in front of, and even though his opinion of SHIELD has never been the highest, he figures that damn Turner is probably Bobby’s friend for a reason. That’s why Dean agreed to join him in the first place.

“Was there someone special to him?” the Captain’s voice suddenly asks from next to him. Dean doesn’t look up, fearing that his eyes might get stuck right back to the reddened spot behind him. He shrugs. Honestly, he doesn’t know _that_ much about the guy, only that he’s a little awkward and that he’s seen a few more things of Dean with some ladies than they both would have liked.

“He never told me, I don’t think they’re allowed to have… partners,” Dean gets out, almost whispering. He can almost sense how the Captain is nearing, but luckily the man stops his steps, leaning with his side against the railing. His arms are crossed and his eyes are stuck to Dean, looking worried.

“He was a brave man,” the guy says, sounding like he truly admired him. The dorky little agent that kept on calling himself the Captain’s greatest fan. Dean has heard so much about how proud he was with the Captain’s new costume design. Dean can remember it being less tight back in the forties (assuming to pictures, that is), and he wonders if Alfie had any reason for the sudden need of skin-tight materials. Sure, it makes the man’s figure stand out in the way it deserves, but he’s sure that, if the Captain would have had any say in it, he would have stuck to the old design.

Dean finally dares to turn to him now, finding intense blue eyes staring right back at him. He’s taken off the upper part of his uniform, instead walking in a blue shirt that might as well have been second skin, and the smooth blue pants. The boots are red, just like the spot behind Dean.

Damn it.

“He was just a kid,” Dean bites bitterly, finding himself already starting. The Captain is going to get an earful of accusations and curses, and Dean would like to say he warned the guy, but he would have been lying. “He was just a kid and an idiot for thinking he could take out the Angel like that.”

“I would call that having courage,” the Captain corrects him.

“Yeah, well, you also think my father was a _swell_ guy, so I don’t really see how your opinion matters in any way,” Dean throws back, and the guy’s blue eyes widen suddenly when the words are spoken out. Dean isn’t sure if he’s gone too far, but knowing himself he probably has. Hell, if Meg would have come to him instead, things would have been that much easier; she would just have thrown accusations back. But she’s not here. She’s probably back at the sleeping quarters, helping Ruby out of the spell Lucifer has thrown on her to control her mind. Meg is always so extremely concerned when it comes to the blonde archer, but Dean figures it’s actually just the same between him and Sam.

“He was my friend,” Cas – no, the Captain – says then after a few moments of silence where Dean thought he would actually just run away. “He meant a lot to me, and it pains me to hear of how awfully he treated you because that just doesn’t sound like the John I knew.”

Dean keeps his mouth shut, figuring that’s the wisest decision. He fumbles with his fingers while he takes a few deep breaths, trying to keep his temper down. If Sam were here, things would have been so much easier, he thinks.

“Can you tell me a little bit about my mother?” Dean suddenly asks before really second-guessing it. His eyes meet the Captain’s once more, and in return he sees sad eyes filled with memories.

“It only feels like a few weeks ago since I last saw her,” Cas says. He leans his elbows on the railings and bends forward a little bit while digging through his mind. “Mary Campbell was the friendliest, kindest and most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Dean can’t help but smile a little bit, remembering indeed how beautiful his mother had been. He can almost remember the feel of her touching his face while tucking him in, singing the soft melody of Hey Jude like she did every night. He can remember the wrinkles on her face, and that, despite her age, she still shone like a star to him, especially when she smiled.

“She wouldn’t take nonsense from anyone, and never backed away from a fight. That, and she also almost shot me, but John then later told me it was because of jealousy.”

“What, she caught you kissing another girl?” Dean asks, unable to hold back a chuckle at the idea of his mother raising a gun towards this man now standing next to him. He had looked exactly the same way, just as young. Dean almost shudders at the idea that, physically, he’s more than ten years older than him. Of course, if you count chronologically, Cas is more of a fossil next to him.

“Somebody flirted with me. She didn’t like it,” Cas says, smiling at the words. Dean’s eyes rest on his face for a moment, taking in the calmness as he speaks of the woman he once loved. “I see a lot of her in you, but also so much of your father. You’re _clearly_ their child.”

Dean nods, having heard that before. Though, somehow, it feels different hearing it from the guy who once dated his mother. This guy could have been his uncle or whatever had he not frozen and had John and Mary still ended up together. It’s almost sickening, the thought of how different the world would have been had Cas been able to land the plane.

“So, eh, this Lucifer-guy really took one out of us, huh?” Dean asks, trying to change the subject now that his mind has moved on to the creepy stuff. “He followed divide and conquer through completely.”

“Do you have any idea where your brother might be right now?” Cas asks, shifting towards Dean again. Dean just shrugs.

“When he’s all hulked out, nobody really knows what he’s thinking. Otherwise I would have been able to track him down.” Dean sighs, knowing that, if they find Sam again, it’ll be on his own terms. Cas nods quietly and crosses his arms in front of him again.

“I’m wondering what he’s playing at,” he mutters, getting back to the subject that actually matters. The reason as to why they’re actually on this damn thing in the first place. Sure, Dean loves flying… the suit. Other things that hover in the air? Not really his choice of transportation mode.

“Well, we know he likes an audience,” Dean says recalling the guy’s speech back when they first caught him back in Stutgard. Cas nods as he puts his hands together and leans forward some more, frowning a little bit.

“He wants us all to know who he is before we all die, it’s what he told Meg earlier,” Cas confirms. Dean wonders when the guy got to talk to the master assassin, and where he got that information from. Meg’s not usually the sharing type. “He needs everybody to know his name.”

“So he’s going for my tower?” Dean almost groans when something clicks. The tower has been all over the news ever since it ‘opened’ earlier that week. He and Sam had been living there for a little while now, but there was this whole issue about the clean energy that they’re now using that the reporters couldn’t stop talking about. It attracted a lot of visitors, so Dean never really complained about it. Everybody who passes by the building looks up and sees it, and this time they might find a crazy maniac-Angel who is trying to conquer the world and who wants to be seen.

It all makes so much sense that Dean’s head almost hurts from it.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, sharing a short look with Cas before running off, the Captain following him back to the control room.

* * *

_November 1943_

_Things have been going well, Castiel likes to think._

_Sure, he’s still a little uneasy whenever he’s put on the stage, but after a while he’s learned to forget about the people in the room, and manages to pretend that he’s all alone. The kids, though, that’s something he doesn’t really want to ignore._

_So he accepts every request for pictures a child comes to ask of him, and signs every paper or comic book that’s shoved in his way. And he bites his tongue about the fact that all those stories those kids are reading, all those adventures… they’re all fake. None of it is real._

_And that’s been made awfully clear when the next stop on Castiel’s tour is at a military base where the soldiers staying there obviously seem to have lost all hope of winning. There seem to be some wounded, but most of them are bitter, especially, somehow, towards him._

_Castiel can understand that. He’s been getting all the glory for what these poor men all fight for. It’s not fair, not to anybody, and he knows that._

_“That was quite a performance,” a female voice suddenly says, pulling Cas out of his thoughts. He notices right then that he’s been doodling a monkey dressed up in his uniform, performing circus acts. That’s a little bit how he feels, too._

_Behind him, Mary Campbell is walking his way, skin a little dampened from the rain and hair looking as neatly and wavy as always. He’s also already used to the bright red lipstick on her full, smiling lips. Castiel takes a dee breath as she gets closer but then just shrugs._

_“Not one of my best shows,” Castiel admits, remembering how he had to use his crappy metal shield to protect himself from the stuff that has been thrown his way. “My public has often been more… kids.”_

_“And are you happy with what you’re doing?” Mary asks, voice sounding knowingly. She sits herself down on one of the boxes next to him, and her eyes drop to the paper on his lap. “Happy with being a dancing monkey for a bunch of idiots who only care about the money?”_

_“Well, it beats being stuck in the lab,” Castiel admits, remembering those first few days after the serum had been inserted. The changes hadn’t been_ that _massive; sure, he’s gained some height, and he’s a lot more muscular than earlier, but, while it might have been a whole new image to others, all Castiel sees now, when he looks into the mirror, is his brother. The brother who had the chance of looking like this without the need of some chemicals and radiation._

_“Don’t tell me those are your only two options,” Mary urges on. Castiel doesn’t know what to answer to that, so he keeps quiet as he colors in the shadow of the monkey’s arm. Then Mary sighs, seeming to be giving up on this conversation. “Don’t take it personally, this group has had a lot to endure.”_

_Castiel nods, because he can understand that. They’ve actually been to war, while Castiel has only been pretending. “What happened to them?” he asks._

_“They lost the battle. This group here was what was left of the 107 th,” Mary explains. Castiel looks up, suddenly alarmed. His heart has sped up and his breathing suddenly stops._

_“What did you just say?”_

_He’s up before he knows it, grabbing Mary along by the hand as he makes his way to her father. He knows the guy is here – he saw him in the back of the public, looking as bored as always._

_“Colonel Campbell,” Castiel calls out when he gets to the tent where the man is busy citing the messages that are going to the families of the people they’ve lost. Castiel swallows a hard lump at the thought that one of those letters might be meant for him._

_“Ah, if it isn’t the man with a plan, what is your plan today?” the Colonel asks dryly, suddenly pointing his finger towards Mary next to him. “And you aren’t even supposed to be here. We’re going to have a talk you won’t enjoy.”_

_Castiel can’t even focus enough to wonder what he means by that. “James Novak, sir, I need to know if his name has-“_

_“I know why you’re here, Novak,” the Colonel interrupts him. He leans back in his chair and passes a hand over his head. Then he stands up to the box filled with envelopes, and he fishes out one after searching for a few seconds. Without a word, he hands it to Castiel. “I’m sorry for your loss.”_

_Mary’s hand finds his shoulder in a supporting hold, but Castiel barely notices it. Instead his insides have turned cold, and his throat suddenly feels extremely dry. Because this can’t be it, right? Jimmy can’t be dead?_

_“What about the others?” Castiel asks, suddenly, knowing that the 107 th was supposed to be an enormous group, and that it’s impossible that they’re all just _killed _._

_“What about them?” Colonel Campbell asks, all sympathy once again disappeared from his voice._

_“Are you planning a rescue mission to save them?” Castiel tries, knowing he’s pushing his luck. Only a few months ago he’s been receiving orders from this man, and while technically he’s still the same soldier he was before, he doesn’t really feel like it._

_“Yes we are, by winning this war,” Colonel Campbell answers. He picks up another paper and takes his pen back between his fingers to continue signing the letters._

_“We are not going to get them?” Castiel asks, feeling the disgust rise in him. Mary, next to him, looks equally conflicted about it, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut. It’s obvious that she’s not even supposed to be here, and it’s better that she doesn’t test her father’s patience._

_“Son, we might lose more men than we could rescue,” the man answers in return, proving quite a good point. But it’s not like Castiel has to agree with it. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a few hundred more letters to write. And you,” this time he points at Mary, “You get back to New York. I don’t know how you got here, but whoever brought you here will get their ass kicked.”_

_After that he turns around, setting himself back down behind his desk as an indication that he’s done talking. Castiel looks at Mary, and she just raises her eyebrows at him, as if she’s questioning him about what he’s going to do now._

_Without a word, Castiel leaves the tent, knowing full well that Mary is going to follow him. They don’t say a word until they get to the back of the stage where he just gave his show to the remaining soldiers of his brother’s department._

_“What are you going to do, walk your way there?” Mary asks when Castiel tries on a few of the helmets the dancing ladies wear, finding one at last in the cabinet of a certain Rebecca. He scratches off the ‘r’ behind it and puts it on his head. Then he goes to another tent to get a camouflaged coat. All the time, Mary keeps on following him._

_“If I have to,” he answers to her question. He goes to the weaponry to pick out a few guns, and then he stocks up on grenades. He might want to take everything he can carry. He almost even forgot the shield. It seems silly to bring it along, but it might offer protection during a shooting._

_“Don’t be stupid, they’ll shoot you before you even get to the border,” Mary counters, but Castiel doesn’t want to have any of it. He stacks the bombs into the pockets of his coat, deciding he can’t take a backpack to put them in because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to carry his shield._

_“At least then I have tried to do something,” he mutters in return. His hand grabs one more grenade, but then Mary’s hand is resting on his own._

_“I can get you there faster,” she tells him. Castiel looks up at her and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for her answer. “You remember how the Colonel asked me how I got here?”_

_Castiel nods._

_“Well, my ride’s still around. He’ll bring us there.”_

_With that she grabs his hand into her own, and Castiel stares at it for a moment before lifting up his shield and letting her guide him out of there. They go through a few tents, getting a few knowing looks from the other soldiers that they are passing by. Castiel ignores them; since this whole show-thing started he’s been flirted with by every woman he comes across with, so hanging around with Mary is a nice change for once._

_They finally exit the last tent and find themselves behind the backstage. Castiel can feel a few drops of water landing on his face, and he hopes that this won’t endanger his mission._

_“John!” Mary whispers loudly with her face pointed towards a big stash of boxes. Castiel frowns once more, wondering for a moment who this John is. “It’s Mary! I need your help.”_

_Nobody comes out, and for a moment Castiel wonders if she’s just gone crazy. When the woman walks towards the boxes to check it out herself, though, he can see that he’s proven wrong. The moment he passes the first box, he can see the familiar figure of John Winchester standing there, quite obviously trying to flirt with one of the dancers. He can hear her giggle, but the sound gets cut off when Mary clears her throat. Her hands are resting on her hips._

_“Oh, hey Mary. Is it time to bring you back?” John asks, sounding a little bored. The lady mustn’t have been good company, Castiel realizes with some strange pleased feeling. When John’s eyes land on Castiel, though, his mouth falls open a little bit. Somehow it looks like he’s starstruck, but in all honesty, Castiel is feeling the exact same thing here._

_“Mr. Winchester,” Castiel greets him politely. John nods and then suddenly a smile appears on his face._

_“Captain Novak,” John returns with a small nod. The man averts his eyes quickly after they share a short look, instead now facing Mary. “What’s up?”_

_“The Captain has a mission,” Mary answers. “He needs a ride.”_

_And all John does is nod._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a typical avengers AU. It was often said that Castiel used to be in a relationship with Mary Campbell back in the day, but that had just been a ruse to keep people from finding out he was gay. At one point I had thought of making Cas have a history with John, but at the same time I felt like there was something VERY wrong with that. In the end, he had no romantic feelings for anybody. Just a big secret that his friends helped him hide.


	7. The Last Airbender AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, Castiel was supposed to be the Avatar. He's really strong and learned the elements very quickly, but in the end got overconfident and made a big mistake. With that, he decided to hide his identity and became a 'masked' Avatar. Years later, Dean got stuck into a dangerous criminal plot that he tries to solve on his own, but an accident from the past prevents him from bending his element, meaning that he's relieved from the Metalbending force. Due to the Avatar being too late on the scene back then, Dean resents him from it. He and Cas were supposed to start working together to find out what's wrong, but eventually Dean would realize who he really was and drama would ensue.   
> I had many plans for this story, but I never really got to a really good and interesting 'crime' to follow up on, and things started to get too complicated in my mind.

“ _…confirmed that the Avatar was there on the scene to stop the criminals and put them back into place. Now, in the matter of the Pro-Bending competition…”_

Dean sighs as he turns off the radio, not wanting to hear about pro-bending or _any_ bending at all. He hasn’t even been listening to the damn thing at all. Somehow his mind just suddenly started working after another session of daydreaming about the good old days all the time. With a groan he stood up again, feeling his legs object of the effort. He ignored them as he went to walk to the sink to splash some water in his face.

Today it was two years since the accident and his bending was still limited. Dean looked at his hands, willing them to bend the metal bracelet he was wearing, but it was no use. The metal didn’t even flinch, and all Dean got from it was another headache. He closed his eyes again, leaned forward and sighed.

He was pathetic and he knew it. For two years his brother had been taking care of him; helping him taking his new first steps since his accident, to control his hands and arms again, to live alone again. But Sam was married now, so he didn’t have time for Dean anymore. Not as much as previously, at least. Yeah, they continued their weekly tradition of going to The Roadhouse on Fridays, and whenever Dean could use the phone in the hallway they called. But in the end it was all just ridiculous actually; they both lived in Republic City, not even thirty minutes removed from each other if they were to use a vehicle, and the only way for them to communicate was through a damn phone.

Dean rubbed his eyes, took another deep breath, and then shook his head, trying to wake up again from his daydreaming. He went to the counter, filled his glass with water, and slumped back to the couch – which was actually also his bed now as he had to sell his real one to pay his rent.

Before it was easy; Dean had it all, a girlfriend, good job… But then, during a case, he got himself hurt, causing him to lose his connection to metalbending and getting him off the force. They apologized, offered him money to keep on going until he found a new job, but that money had been spend on medical-bills and now he was left with almost nothing. Of course, he didn’t tell his brother that. He didn’t want his pity.

Luckily, Dean still had earthbending in him, and he managed to create the furniture he had to sell – except for a bed as the couch at least was still comfortable. He looked at his little apartment while he was drinking, seeing the gray empty walls. The room was really cold, and to be honest, it never really felt like home to him. Dean always dreamed of being on the road, travelling around. He didn’t need a permanent house, as long as he was able to feel free.

After a while Dean opened the newspaper, squinting to read the headline; another message about the Avatar. Dean snorted, turning to the next page. Who cared about the Avatar? He hadn’t been there to save Dean so he was nothing to him. Dean never even saw the man’s face, only glimpses on pictures. Whenever he had been working on a case, the Avatar sometimes helped out, but the only thing he faced was a hooded man with a low voice.

_Avatar Castiel managed to stop the Hell’s Demons with breaking in to the Central Bank yesterday. This made it the gang’s fourth attempt to rob the very same bank in the last three weeks. Will Republic City’s police force soon bring an end to this gang before they’ll succeed?_

Okay, now that was weird. Dean had been a cop once too, fighting along with the other metalbenders, solving cases of his own when they didn’t have a crisis to work on. This just didn’t make sense to Dean. Why would the Demons try and rob the same bank the same way again and again? Wouldn’t they learn by now? This wasn’t right.

Dean’s investigating instincts told him that there was more to it. As an officer in the force he had been mostly instructed to just deal with the emergency and move on to the next one, causing him to not really think about another meaning in these robberies, but as he wasn’t in the force now anymore, Dean was able to look outside their point of view. What he saw, though, was nothing else than a conspiracy.

So Dean stood up again from the couch, dropped the paper on the table and went to put on his dad’s jacket as he left the apartment. His legs objected as he took the first few steps on the stairs, but they’d have to manage. Dean held on tightly to the railing until he was on the main floor, getting outside of the building and right into the open air of the Republic City.

Dean saw his neighbor coming back to the building, so he held open the door, letting the old lady in. She only nodded at him with a friendly smile, and right when Dean wanted to continue walking, he changed his mind as he realized Garth wasn’t on his post again, turning back inside quickly.

“Do you need some help?” Dean asked, and the old lady nodded, holding on to her bags as she went to stand in the center of the hall. Dean then went into the basic stand and let the floor under the woman rise up in the air. He knew how the lady lived on the second to last floor, so he calculated in his head how longer he had to hold on before he could let the floor go down again. When the woman shouted that she had arrived, he dropped his hold on the earth, slamming his foot one time on the floor hard, and with that the hallway was just like normal. Normally Garth was supposed to do this, make an improvised elevator for the people that lived on the top floors, but once again, the guy wasn’t on his post. Dean couldn’t really get himself to care, though; he mostly stayed away from Garth, as the guy was kind of a weirdo.

Then Dean finally went outside, breathing in the cold air of the city. He heard the vehicles pass by when he was walking on the streets, ignoring the envy he felt towards all those drivers. His feet brought him to Central Bank in no time, and he already saw the familiar figures of the Force he once called his colleagues. The police-cars were neatly parked on the parking-lot and they seemed to be busy cleaning up their stuff. A few of the officers were already getting in to a car to drive back to the department.

Dean kept on walking, ignoring that weird nostalgic feeling in his gut that made him remember _his_ time on the force. A little further away there stood a few guys, keeping quiet as the chief of police seemed to be discussing things a little further away.

“Hey Benny,” Dean said once he was standing behind one of the guys he recognized. The man turned around to face him, and smiled as soon as he saw Dean standing there.

Now, Benny was just one big cuddly teddy bear on the inside, making him one of those guys that randomly started to hug people. Dean didn’t have a problem with that, at all, but Benny was strong and often forgot that, making Dean’s body crack and hurt a little before finally admitting that he couldn’t breathe. After that, Benny always pressed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and looked at him with an amused expression. And yeah, in case one would ask, he did the exact same thing now, only releasing him this time when Dean started scratching against his armor in desperation. Benny’s friends were laughing at him, causing Dean’s face to flush red.

“How’ve you been brother?” Benny asked, not keeping his eyes off Dean as he went to stand back straight, crossing his arms. He only had to look at Dean shortly before noticing that, no, Dean wasn’t alright. He was pale, had purple bags under his eyes and his cheeks were starting to get hollow. Dean knew how he looked; terrible. He hadn’t eaten normally in over a few months, and his shower-time was now limited to twice a week, with only five minutes under the water before getting kicked out again. His clothes were ripped at the base, and Sarah had been friendly enough to patch up a giant hole in his arm sleeve, which now actually made him look like a tramp even more.

“I’m fine, Benny,” Dean lied. Benny frowned, but couldn’t say anything before the man started talking again. “How’re the kids?”

At the mention of his kids, Benny smiled again. Yeah, Dean knew exactly how to distract his good friend with whom he had years of metalbending-training with. So Benny started talking about his two little girls, how they were already clearly earthbenders and how proud he was about them. Dean listened intently, but when he saw a hooded figure pass by, he froze to the spot, eyes not leaving the man that had joined the crime scene and wandered as if he was searching for something.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Dean asked, biting on his teeth in order to hold down his anger. His hands were balled in fists, and his breath was getting faster. Benny then turned around, gave the hooded man a small look and shrugged.

“He’s here to talk with the chief,” Benny said as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Doesn’t say a lot, though.”

Dean didn’t answer, but kept on watching the hooded Avatar who came to stand next to chief Hendriksen. The man held his head up high as they spoke, and Dean couldn’t hear them. Then Dean remembered why he actually came here in the first place. He grabbed Benny’s arm to get his attention again, and held out his other hand to give the impression that Dean was serious about whatever he was going to say.

“Listen Benny, I don’t think this is just a random robbery,” Dean said. “This just doesn’t make sense.”

Benny shook his head and sighed at the same time. A few other officers passed by, but didn’t pay them any attention. In the meantime a small breeze had started to go around, and Dean was slightly shivering.

“Listen Dean, I know you never wanted to leave the force, but you’re not a cop anymore,” Benny said with a sad voice. Dean dropped his eyes while listening to him. “I would love to have you on board again, but you can’t meddle with this investigation, Victor would crush ya.”

Dean bit his lower lip in annoyance as he turned his head away, sighing loudly. He had no comeback, nothing to add to that, because he had already crossed Victor a few times now during investigations, and he didn’t like the embarrassment of getting shouted at again in front of the whole force. But at the same time he couldn’t let this thing happen just like that. If he didn’t stop them, he would just feel guilty all the time.

Benny was already starting to walk away as Dean was thinking. Dean understood though, Benny didn’t want any trouble; he had a wife and two kids to take care off. No, Dean wouldn’t ask for anything that would get Benny fired.

And what Dean needed would indeed get him fired.

Dean relaxed his shoulders and put his hands in his pockets, trying to attract minimal attention as he was plotting his plan in silence. The other cops didn’t pay any attention to him, but weirdly, the hooded figure did. Dean stood still, unable to remove his eyes from the man as soon as they made contact. The Avatar didn’t move, but he just kept staring. This was the first time Dean was able to see his face, though he was still very far away, and he shouldn’t have been surprised to see that the man looked about his age. From this far, he couldn’t see what color his eyes were – they were also darkened by the shadows of his hood. Dean raised his head a little bit, causing the Avatar to tilt his, and for almost a minute they kept looking at each other like this.

Then Dean shook his head, suddenly realizing how tense he was feeling. He lowered his gaze, remembering that he actually hated the guy. Without paying him any more attention, Dean started walking back home.


End file.
